


Oh, My Queen!

by cherie_morte



Series: Anita!Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Drag Queens, F/M, Future Fic, Genderbending, Genderfluid Character, Genderplay, M/M, Post-Divorce, corsets, non-au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-23 05:50:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12500220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherie_morte/pseuds/cherie_morte
Summary: Non-AU:Supernatural has been over for three years, and, despite his best efforts, Jensen can't help feeling like his and Jared's friendship ended with the show's wrap. Now a successful film director, Jensen travels back to Vancouver to try and convince Jared to star in his next big project. Before meeting with his former co-star, Jensen visits a gay club with a former member of the Supernatural crew and discovers a whole life Jared has been hiding from him—one in which Jared is one of the star performers at The Cobalt's weekly drag show.





	Oh, My Queen!

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is. My baby. Be kind to it. Repost of my 2012 [rpf_big_bang](https://rpf-big-bang.livejournal.com/) originally posted [here](http://infatuated-ink.livejournal.com/78701.html). Art is by [clex_monkie89](http://clex-monkie89.livejournal.com) and can be found [here](http://clex-monkie89.livejournal.com/939224.html). More notes can be found on my masterpost on LJ.

It's fucking cold outside in Vancouver. This is not a fact that Jensen forgot. You spend 10 years in one city freezing your dick off, you're not going to forget it right away. But…maybe after three years of nonstop L.A. sun, he didn't quite remember just how bad it was, either.

He pulls off his gloves and shoves them into the pocket of his coat, bringing his hands up to his mouth, then breathes on to them and rubs them together and waits for them to stop feeling like icicles. It's not long. The club is dark and muggy and within just a couple of seconds, Jensen sees his cheeks in the mirrored walls as they go from red and frost-nipped to flushed from the thick, smoky air.

"Hello, sugar," says a dark-skinned man by the entrance. He's wearing a peach-colored tank top and a skirt and dark pink lipstick. His head is shaved close, but there's a giant blonde wig sitting on the cushion of the chair the man is hovering over. Jensen figures he must be getting ready for the show between checking IDs and collecting cover charge. "I hope you're here to perform. Ladies drink free. Or, you know, might as well at the rate they have pretty boys paying for them."

The guy gives Jensen a wink, and Jensen ducks his head, stammering out, "No, just here to watch."

"That's a shame," the guy says, pouting his lips and cocking his hip to the right. "Baby, you'd look killer with some color on that mouth of yours."

"Thanks, I guess." Jensen gives him a tight smile and hands over his money, hurrying past once he's gotten his hand stamped. It's not like he wasn't expecting to get hit on coming here—he just wasn't ready for it to happen before he was properly through the door.

His instinct tells him it's only going to be worse inside, but Jensen pushes on. Let no one accuse him of not being an awesome friend.

He spots Carlos sitting by the stage with a drink in his hand and an empty seat next to him. Jensen walks straight toward him, ignoring any obscenities that are shouted after him, and drops his things onto the table.

"Jensen Ackles," Carlos says, standing. Carlos is a good head shorter than Jensen, with a loud enough voice to make up for his slight build. He rises to his toes to throw one arm around Jensen's shoulder and pat him on the back.

"Carlos," Jensen replies, grinning at his friend. "It's nice to see you, man."

"Carla tonight, if you don't mind," his friend tells him with a dismissive smile. He's not dressed up any differently than he used to be on set when they were still doing Supernatural, but Jensen won't argue. "You know, I almost didn't buy it when I heard you were coming back here."

Jensen laughs as he and Carlos both take their seats. "Just a short visit."

"Still a total baby about the winter, huh?"

"I'm not a—" Jensen begins, and Carlos raises one perfectly plucked eyebrow at him. Jensen relents a little. "Alright, I still don't like it. But it's not my fault."

"Oh, no, no, no," Carlos says, shaking his head. "Don't start that 'I'm from Texas' bullshit with me, sweetheart. You think we had blizzards in Puerto Rico?"

Jensen shrugs, holding up a hand to get the waitress' attention. "And as ever, I'm willing to give you full credit. I don't know how you put up with it."

"Steady work. I do miss the tropical sun on occasion," he admits. He gives Jensen a sly smile. "And I wouldn't mind seeing some Speedos again."

"I've got a place in L.A.," Jensen reminds. "Mi casa es tu—"

Carlos covers his ears dramatically. "Please, bitch, your Spanish is painful to me."

"Tequila," Jensen says as the waitress stops in front of them. "A round for us. On me." He turns to Carlos. "That sound okay to you?"

"I don’t know if saying 'Tequila' makes you a native speaker, but I will take the alcohol."

The waitress smiles as she writes their order down and then walks off toward the bar, built hips swaying in a skirt so short Jensen is briefly worried he'll see something he didn't bargain on.

He clears his throat and looks to his friend. "So, drag queens, huh?"

"You're going to have fun tonight, Jennifer." Carlos grins at whatever face Jensen makes on instinct. "If you loosen up un poquito."

Jensen just shakes his head and thanks the waitress when she sets their shots down. He likes Carlos, always did, and the gay thing never bothered him. But this—this is a lot out of Jensen's comfort zone, and he's still having a hard time imagining why his friend was so adamant they meet up _here_. It's not just a gay club, it's a full on drag show. Talk about not easing Jensen into it.

"Well," he says boldly, "starting with tequila is a good way to do that, right?"

"Si," Carlos says, throwing his shot back and sucking on the lime. "Just don't get too loose. You need to be able to appreciate Anita."

"Anita?" Jensen asks. "That your girlfriend or something?"

Carlos heaves a great sigh, full of ancient sorrow and an impressive flair for the dramatic. Jensen briefly wonders why he never tried going into acting. Guy is theatrical, to say the least. "If the man is out there who can tie Anita Mann down, I fear he is a hell of a lot more to write home about than I am."

Jensen shrugs. Carlos isn't an unattractive guy, shortness aside. He's got a good, full head of black hair and skin the color of a great tan without ever having to work for it. "What's so special about Anita?" Jensen asks. He pauses, making a face. "Anita Mann is a ridiculous name by the way."

"I think it's clever," Carlos defends. Jensen thinks he might have actually offended his friend, but then Carlos unpuffs his chest and leans in to confess, "Okay, I helped her make it up."

Jensen laughs. "So you guys are friends?"

Carlos's eyebrows draw together. "Yeah, of course. Everyone's friends with Anita." How Jensen's supposed to know that is a mystery, but then Carlos's eyes widen with shock and he sits up. "Oh my god, you don't know Anita. Holy shit, Jensen, this is going to be glorious."

He honest-to-God claps then, and the lights begin to dim. All the patrons hush their conversations as bright pink and purple spotlights fix on the center of the stage.

A man dressed as the queen of France walks out. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to The Cobalt's weekly Apocalypstik! Drag Show! I'm your hostess, Marie Mantoinette, and I'll be giving you my head before the night is up."

The audience begins applauding, so Jensen does too, and Marie gives a dainty bow. "Yes, yes. Thank you, thank you." She holds one hand up, signaling for silence. "Bonjour, mes amis," she begins again, smiling through what seems to Jensen like 80 pounds of make-up. "Voulez-vous choucher avec moi ce soir?"

Everyone around Jensen erupts into catcalls and inappropriate comments, and the host covers her mouth. "Pardonnez moi," she says. "That was a little forward of me. I just couldn't resist. This costume has a mind of its own. Always makes me hungry for something. What is it? Starts with a C…"

"Cock!" a thousand voices cry out in unison.

"Ah, yes, that's exactly it," she says, nodding. "Cake, right. How could I forget?"

Everyone in the room, Jensen included, laughs, and the hostess skips down the long stage, closer to the audience, passing right by Jensen and Carlos's table as she does so. "I see we have a lot of familiar faces here tonight." She looks down and Jensen almost thinks she's staring right at him for a few seconds before she adds, "And some new ones, as well."

Jensen feels himself tensing. He really wasn't banking on being spotted here—it's been years since he was on TV, so he figured even in Vancouver he wouldn't be that recognizable any more. Not that it would be the end of the world; Jensen is here with a friend, that's it. But, true or not, that won't hold up as an excuse in the media, and Jensen would really rather not have to deal with more gay rumors. He's been dodging them since he started in the business, and it would be one thing if they were at least true. As is, they're just confusing.

Not that Jensen gets why anyone would care if he was gay. Maybe they wouldn't. It's not like he's trying to play the leading man anymore. A gay director with Jensen's credentials probably wouldn't have a hard time finding work. Still. Jensen just doesn't want to deal with it.

Marie's eyes continue on down the stage, and she doesn't point Jensen out. He lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding, then tunes back into what she's saying and realizes he missed the end of her opening monologue.

"Our first performer," she's saying now, her voice dropping several octaves, "is named Albert." She pulls back and winks, continuing in her usual falsetto. "But you can call her Victoria. All rise for the queen, and if you're really good, maybe we can talk her into showing you her crown jewels."

While the audience is hooting and hollering, the lights go out before switching to green, moving across the stage, and drawing attention to a swing Jensen hadn't noticed before. Sitting on it, a blonde in a long dress is perched, waving at the audience like a beauty queen. She gets down shortly after and begins to do her number.

Jensen orders another drink and he and Carlos begin to talk, tuning in and out of the show. Carlos seems to come here pretty often, often enough that he can stop the conversation and point out the better acts, the ones Jensen apparently wouldn't want to miss. It's fun enough, Jensen will admit, even if he's not sure he'll ever want to hear another dirty joke after he makes it out of here tonight.

"Alright, everyone shut the fuck up," Marie yells.

Jensen, along with pretty much everyone else judging from the way the club goes from loud to silent in seconds, turns his attention back to the stage. She's standing right in the center, now dressed as Dorothy. Jensen has had way too many drinks to keep track of all her costume changes thus far.

She clicks her heels together and then gives the audience a shy smile. "Now, I'm _supposed_ to wish for Kansas, but I don't think I'd fit in there very well. Anyway, I know there’s something I'd rather see right now, aside from all of you naked…" She looks around like she's lost. "Can you all maybe remind me what I should wish for?"

"Anita!" someone behind Jensen yells, and before long there are voices scattered all over crying for Anita.

"Alright, alright, don't get so pushy," the hostess tells them. She clicks her heels together three times and disappears in a puff of red smoke, and Jensen sits up, watching with interest to see what the big deal is.

The queen who walks out is not what Jensen's expecting. She's not themed as far as he can tell, not like most of the other girls were, and her outfit is a splash of a hundred bright colors. She's tall, though maybe that's just a trick the platform heels are playing. Her hair is long, fire engine red and her body—was not made to be stuffed into a dress. Jensen nearly laughs at the sight of her. She's built like a damn Greek god, the kind of muscles that Jensen could workout for years and still not have, though she's surprisingly thin as her body tapers down into hips. In pants and a t shirt, she would probably be burly, and even the bright pink boa snaking around her shoulders doesn't do enough to disguise that.

She walks out, slightly wobbly on her terrifyingly tall heels, and as soon as she starts dancing, Jensen is pretty sure it isn't her grace that's made her such a favorite. There’s music pumping loudly through speakers all around the club, the rhythm completely different from whatever she's trying to keep time with.

But her whole body rocks without the slightest hint that she's self-conscious about her inability to dance, and when she throws her head back, laughing deeply, her body shakes with the force of it. Jensen sees just enough of her face to catch the dimples that are cutting into her cheeks, and he couldn't name it, but he feels it right then. Whatever it is that makes her such a hit, it's pure charisma and she hasn't even started talking yet. For no apparent reason, she's enthralling.

Once she does start talking, it makes a little more sense. Anita speaks in a stage southern belle accent, leaning so much toward Scarlett O'Hara that Jensen knows it's affected, but with enough genuine twang underneath that he wouldn't be surprised if she's really from the south, or at least had spent a lot of time there.

She's a riot. Jensen finds himself laughing through her entire set, so hard that his sides hurt. Harder than he thinks he's laughed in at least three years. He's so caught up in her act that it's not until she's walking off the stage that Jensen spares a look over at his friend and sees the way Carlos is watching him, a mix of expectation and amusement. Jensen must have scooted forward throughout Anita's performance without even noticing, because he's pressed up to the edge of his seat now.

He feels his cheeks flush hot and looks away, not even sure what he's embarrassed about. It's almost like Carlos intruded on something he shouldn't have seen, when all that really happened is Jensen got a little hypnotized by a drag queen. He's not the first straight guy to be pulled into a gay club and find himself enjoying it.

"What do you think of our girl?" Carlos finally asks.

Jensen clears his throat and watches Marie—now dressed as Wonder Woman—as she takes the stage to begin the closing ceremonies. Which apparently involve throwing a whole lot of rainbow glitter into the audience.

"Very amusing," Jensen says, trying to play it cool.

His friend gives him an unconvinced look, but before he can call Jensen's bluff, a blond boy in a midriff shirt and jean shorts walks up behind them and puts a hand on Carlos's shoulder. Carlos smiles at him, then gives Jensen an apologetic look. "Hey, uh, so. Show's over. You're probably heading home pretty soon, right?"

Jensen laughs. "Get on with your bad self," he says, giving the blond a nod of acknowledgement.

Carlos grins and smacks Jensen on the back, saying something about how it was nice seeing him as he walks off. Jensen sits for a few minutes longer, nursing the rest of his drink, then leaves a few bills on the table for tip and gathers his stuff, figuring he might as well go back to his hotel.

"You just gonna leave us?" someone asks from uncomfortably close behind Jensen.

Jensen turns very quickly. "Uh, yeah. Early morning tomorrow." He sees that it's the hostess, still dressed as Wonder Woman, and grins. "Great show though. I had a wonderful time."

"Mmmhmm," she says, looking Jensen up and down. "I'm scaring you all the way back into the closet, huh?"

Jensen raises his hand. "I'm not, uh, no closets," he says, then figures there's no point arguing this with a drag queen in the middle of a gay bar. "Thanks for the show."

"Aren't you going to offer to buy me a drink?" she asks, batting her long, false eyelashes. "After I worked so hard up there to make you happy?"

"Uh," Jensen says. "Sure, I can buy you a drink, but I should tell you—"

He forgets what he's saying as soon as he spots a big red wig cutting through the crowd toward the bar. Jensen was right about her being tall; Anita's head is visible high above the other patrons she passes.

The hostess raises a jewel-encrusted eyebrow, looking back to see what's caught Jensen's attention before turning to him, nodding. "Yeah, I figured that would be your flavor." She gives Jensen a look that is surprisingly cool and crosses her arms over her chest as she says, "You better be careful where you step here, honey. We take care of our own."

With that, she continues on, leaving Jensen to wonder if that was supposed to sound like as much of a threat as it did. Maybe she was telling him to just leave, but he can't shake his own random fascination, so he chases it to the bar.

"Let me buy you a drink," he says, sliding into the tight spot next to Anita.

She startles a little, then opens a fan as she turns to acknowledge him. He can't see anything of her face except for a cat-like hazel eye and the dark, sparkling green eye shadow reaching all the way to her eyebrow, but the action draws his attention to her hands, and Jensen swallows hard. She's wearing long white gloves that run all the way to her elbows, though where she found anything to fit her, Jensen can't imagine. He's never seen bigger hands before, but her wrists are so elegant that Jensen gets the urge to bend low and press his lips to them, satin and all.

He shakes his head and reminds himself that this is not a real woman. Christ, she's not even convincing.

"Thank you," she says in her sweet southern drawl, "but no thank you. I can get my own drinks if it comes to that."

Jensen blinks. There is no way he just got shot down offering free alcohol at a gay bar. "Seriously? I'm not _that_ old."

Anita laughs behind the fan, her head tipping back just a bit. "Oh, believe me, it's nothing personal. But there's a whole lot of boys here tonight who'll buy me drinks and make it worth my while. I'm not gonna stick around and dead end it with a straight guy."

"How do you know I'm straight?" Jensen asks, which is the stupidest fucking question he's ever asked because he _is_ straight.

She lowers the fan just a bit, but not enough for Jensen to see if she's smiling or frowning. "I've been doing this a long time. I've learned the difference between a genuine offer and a guy who just wants to stare at the freaks."

"That's not—" Jensen says, reaching out to touch her hand and then pulling back when she bats him away with the fan. "I'm sorry. I am straight. But I swear I'm not like that. I just want to talk."

"Talk about what?" she asks. Jensen can finally hear the laugh in her voice. "This is prime hunting time for me!"

"Please," Jensen says, stepping closer. "I insist. One _free_ drink. Just talk to me for a few minutes and then you can find someone better worth your time."

She closes the fan but still keeps it over the corner of her mouth so Jensen can't see all of her. She bites her lip, some of the color coming off on her teeth, then shakes her head. "Talk to one of the other girls if you want to experiment so badly."

"No, I only want to talk to you." Jensen holds his hand out to get the bartender's attention, and the guy comes, though he's watching Anita for his cue, not Jensen. "One drink."

She sighs. "I'll have the usual," she tells the bartender. "Thanks, doll."

The bartender apparently assumed this would be the case and already has the drink ready for her. "No problem," he says, sliding it across the counter. "Anything for your charming friend?"

Jensen smiles, his eyes still fixed on Anita. "I'm good, thanks."

The guy behind the bar gives Anita a thumbs up, which Jensen manages not to laugh at, and then moves down to the next customer.

"Well, what do you want to talk about then?" she asks, leaning on the bar and taking a sip from her drink. "Politics? The weather? Molecular biology?"

"You," Jensen says. "Tell me about you."

Anita turns her face away from Jensen, and he sees beads of sweat on her cheek and neck, make-up running where it's heaviest. He thinks briefly of Jared, of when he used to carry tissues to wipe his co-star clean between takes, and his chest aches. He shakes his head, determined not to think of Jared until tomorrow when it's absolutely unavoidable. He's buzzed and he's having a good time and the last thing he needs is to end up melancholy.

"Come now, really," she says, still not looking at Jensen. She puts her drink down on the countertop and starts shoving it around idly. "Hit on one of the others. You're just Misty's type. She'll eat you up in a second."

"I told you," Jensen insists. "I only want to talk to you."

"There's no reason for it," she replies harshly. "I'm not exactly the prettiest thing here. A guy like you can spend your money better."

"Why do you say that?"

She laughs, turning so Jensen can see her big white teeth and the dimples are there this time, though something in her eyes is not registering the good cheer she's trying to project. "Come on, you have eyes," she says, gesturing at her body with her closed fan. "They like me here so they let me indulge myself, but let's not pretend I'm a particularly good drag queen."

"You're beautiful." He blurts it out without thinking, but as soon as he's said it, he realizes it's true. She's not terribly feminine and her body is the opposite of most of the other girls who performed and she can't sing or dance to save her life. But nonetheless, and despite the fact that Jensen was 100% straight until he walked into this bar, she's so fucking bizarrely gorgeous that it's baffling to him.

Her eyes widen when he says that, almost like she's about to tear up. She looks down at her hands, then shrugs her shoulders a bit and leans in, giving Jensen a momentary peck on the lips. He tastes her lipstick when she pulls away, too soon for Jensen to respond, which is for the best because God only knows what he would have done.

She's not bothering to cover her face anymore, and she gives Jensen a very sad smile. "It was really nice to see you, Jen," she says softly, not putting on the girlish accent. Then she turns her back on him and disappears into the crowd.

Jensen is so dazed that it's minutes before it all connects, before he remembers the only person who ever said his name like that and brings his fingers up to his lips where he can still taste Jared's kiss.

Jensen's phone goes off way too fucking early the next morning, and the blaring from the speakers kicks him awake. He's got a dull ache in the back of his skull, a nice little reminder that he's not as young as he used to be. Can't drink the way he did the last time he was in Vancouver.

He sits up, rubbing a hand over his face, and looks to see who the hell is calling him at seven in the morning when, for all intents and purposes, Jensen is supposed to be on vacation. The caller ID says Carlos, so Jensen dives for it just before it runs over to voicemail. He's got a few questions for the guy, top of them being if he actually got so trashed off one shot of tequila and a few beers that he imagined some drag queen was Jared. Some drag queen who kissed him, and Jensen is hoping it was just a really fucking weird, oddly arousing dream, because it's bringing up enough awkward questions without being real.

"Hello," Jensen says, the one simple word hard to force out with his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth.

"You don't sound too good, chico," Carlos says, irritatingly chirpy considering the hour and that Jensen knows for a fact he had a much wilder night than Jensen did.

"I'm not feeling great either," Jensen replies, cold as anything. "What do you want?"

He does Jensen the kindness of skipping right to the point. "What the hell happened after I left last night?"

Jensen groans, letting himself fall back onto the bed. He knew, really, the night before was too vivid and too implausible to be made up. But it's still not great to hear confirmation. "So that was for real, huh?"

Carlos chuckles a little on the other end. "Yeah, that was for real. Man, I never in a million years thought you didn't know, or I wouldn't have taken you."

"Yeah, well, I didn't," Jensen replies, not really sure what the hell else he's supposed to say.

"I just assumed he'd told you. I thought you guys were super close. Best friends."

"Something like that," Jensen answers, sounding a little more bitter than he intends to. It's not Carlos's fault, but reminding himself of that isn't making the crushing weight on Jensen's chest lighten any.

There's a long silence over the phone, and finally Carlos says, "Wow. So you really are pissed. Didn't take you for such an asshole, Jensen. What the hell did you do to Jared?"

"What the hell did I do?" Jensen asks, his voice rising so loud he flinches. He's actually managing to make his own headache worse. "What did he tell you I did?"

"Nothing," Carlos answers. "He wouldn't say a damn thing. He just called and told me I had no right to bring you and hung up, and now you're sounding like something's stuck up your ass, and not in a good way. I'm guessing you didn't take it well. But whatever you said or did to him, you had no fucking ri—"

"I didn't do anything, okay?" Jensen interrupts. "I didn't even know it was him."

"Ah," Carlos says slowly, and Jensen can hear his tongue cluck over the phone line. "Yeah, I guess that'll do it."

"Huh?"

"Nothing," Carlos says, his voice softer now. "Nothing. Look, I'm sorry the night didn't work out. I thought you knew. I thought he'd be thrilled you came to see him. I didn't realize how things were."

Jensen wants to ask what that cryptic shit is supposed to mean, but he shakes his head instead, letting the fight drain out of him. It's not Carlos he's mad at, not really. If he'd known Jared was some kind of drag diva, he would have insisted on seeing the show. It's Jared he's mad at. It's the fact that he didn't know. It's himself, and that stupid part of him that still lets itself get wounded every time he remembers he hasn't existed as far as Jared Padalecki is concerned since they wrapped the last episode of Supernatural.

He hangs up with Carlos shortly after that and rolls out of bed, thankful that the hotel he's staying at had the good sense to put the bathroom just a few feet from the edge of his mattress. He pisses, tries to brush the grime out of his mouth, and slaps himself a few times with cold water.

The face that greets him when he looks up at the mirror is something out of a horror movie, eyes red and hair sticking out in every direction, and Jensen knows he's imagining it, but he reaches up to wipe the red smudge of lipstick off his bottom lip.

Jensen takes a long and very hot shower, lets his skin burn red under the spray as the bathroom fills with steam. It makes him think of the club last night—as if he had any chance of thinking of something else—and he closes his eyes, remembering the thick air it was nearly impossible to breathe, the sweat beading on the side of Jared's neck. His skin burns even hotter, shame and embarrassment now, as his dick begins to swell, but there's no one here to see or judge, so he reaches down to stroke himself, trying not to obsess over the way those long, white gloves made Jared's wrists stand out.

He finishes with a low grunt, come washing down the drain and leaving Jensen feeling unsatisfied and angry and confused. This is all Jared's fault. Jensen wants to hate him, wants so badly to hate him for that kiss, for never telling Jensen about such a huge part of himself, for ever pretending to be his friend in the first place. It's nothing new and it's no use, either. Jensen's been wishing he could hate Jared for three years.

Thanks to the needlessly early wake-up call, Jensen can take his sweet ass time getting ready. Good thing, too. He's not in prime condition at the moment. He pulls a towel off the rack by the tub, burying his face in it and thanking God or fate or whatever the fuck deity is in charge of travel arrangements that he sprung for a slightly more expensive hotel, one where the towels are clean and soft instead of glorified sandpaper.

He tries to make use of his morning after that. He reads over maybe 10 pages of script before he gives up, orders room service just to prove to himself that he can keep it down, and spends the majority of the next few hours slumped in front of the TV, not really hearing a word it says. He has lunch with Jared at 1:30, and it was going to be stressful enough before this whole secret-drag-queen-life thing came into the picture.

His stomach is tangled into a thousand knots by the time he gets to the restaurant, and he's half an hour early with nothing but a script he's read several times to try and keep himself busy. He takes the seat facing the door so he can be ready for Jared as soon as he arrives and gives the waiter a nervous laugh when he asks Jensen if his girlfriend will be joining him.

It's just a working lunch. Just an hour or so to talk Jared into agreeing to accept this role and then he can get back to L.A. where everything is safe and sterilized and void of any messy emotions. They don't even have to bring last night up as far as Jensen is concerned.

Jared is ten minutes late. He comes in, wearing a gray suit and a guarded expression, and Jensen watches as he approaches, wondering if the slightly feminine sway of his hips is new or if Jensen just failed to notice it the way he apparently failed to notice everything else.

Jensen stands to shake his hand, an impressively awkward greeting when he considers the way Jared would be wrapping him in a tight hug five years ago. He's willing to bet Jared is thinking the same thing, because instead of taking the handshake, he stares down at Jensen's outstretched palm and back up at Jensen with a slightly sick expression on his face. He doesn't say what Jensen wants to hear, though, doesn't laugh at him and tell him he's crazy and no way is he getting out of his hug that easily. There's no contact, no affectionate teasing. Jensen was at least ready for this part.

"You know," Jared begins, still blinking at Jensen like he's not really sure he's talking to the right person, "I just spent the last five minutes walking back and forth outside, trying to decide whether to come in or not."

"I didn’t think you would show," Jensen replies, though he never intended to admit that to Jared.

He knows how hard it was for his agent to arrange this; Jared tried to say no. The only thing that got him here was Jared’s own agent, asking him if he's crazy trying to pass on a lunch with someone whose publicity he could really use.

Everyone else involved with the project laughed off the insult. If some has-been doesn't see what a chance this is, to hell with him, they told Jensen. Jensen could get anyone he wanted—Chris Evans or Leonardo DiCaprio or that kid from the new James Bond movie, Jimmy something or other—to take this role without even having to work for it. Why the hell bother chasing Jared Padalecki?

Jensen insisted. Pathetically enough, knowing all of this, he put his foot down. It _has_ to be Jared. All he could think as he read the script was of Jared and how perfect he would be for the role. Like it was written just for him. Jensen only took the damn movie for that exact reason. Not that it's bad, he just knows he could have gotten a better offer, especially now that he's officially in the run for an Oscar.

But the pull was too strong to refuse. The off chance that Jared would say yes, purely out of desperation, and Jensen would have him trapped. He doesn’t care about being used, all he cares about are those two, maybe three, months they would be working together, just like before. Two or three months where Jared has to see him, has to be around him constantly, and Jensen can pretend, for however brief a period, that he has a best friend again.

"Well, I'm here," Jared says, taking his seat. "Didn't really have much of a choice about it, to be perfectly honest."

Jensen frowns. "I'll try not to waste too much of your time. I'm sure you've got better things to get to."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jared's eyes narrow, and Jensen can't help remembering the way that hazel stood out against the make-up he was wearing the night before. It's remarkable now, seeing him up close the way Jensen used to be accustomed to, how little resemblance he bears to Anita.

It's not until Jared coughs pointedly that Jensen realizes he's staring, completely lost in his thoughts. "Nothing," he finally says. "I didn't mean anything, Jared."

Jared looks away, picking up a menu and holding it so his face isn't visible. Jensen thinks of the fan he'd hidden behind last night, how damn transparent Jared is even now, and laughs.

Jared looks up at him. "Is something funny?"

"You are," Jensen tells him. "You're funny."

Jared winces and makes a pinched face. "If you didn't get the mocking out of your system last night, I'm leaving."

"When did I mock you?" Jensen asks, a little hurt. "You're the one who made an idiot out of me."

"I did not," Jared says, taking a pouting sip from his water. It's childish, but it's not new. Jared's always done this when he's upset, but now Jensen's eyes catch on his mouth, and his stomach swoops remembering how big and bright those lips had been just a few hours ago.

"You talked to me that whole time without telling me who you were. You kissed me just to really mess with me. And, oh yeah, you forgot to mention a few things I would have liked to have known as a friend."

"I thought this was a working lunch?" Jared asks. "Are we talking business or am I leaving?"

Jensen stops with his mouth open, swallowing down what he was about to say and feeling like Jared just reached across the table and slapped him. He blinks a few times, then forces his mouth shut and swallows. "I'm starting a new project," he says, too stunned to argue. "It's a movie for Warner Brothers and I want you to be the lead."

Finally Jensen's the one who caught Jared off guard. He stares ahead, raising an eyebrow at the script Jensen pushes toward him. "You're joking, right?"

"Wouldn't be in Vancouver if I wasn't serious," Jensen tells him. "Character's name is Logan Wheeler. He's a school teacher whose—"

"No," Jared says. "Sorry, I can't take it. But thanks for the offer."

Jensen stops mid-sentence. "What? You haven't even let me try to sell it to you, man." He laughs, scratching his eyebrow with his thumb. "Come on, I've got a whole speech prepared. At least let me rant it at you once before you turn me down."

"I've got obligations," he says. "Nice that you thought of me, though."

"What obligations?"

"My show," Jared replies weakly.

Jensen shrugs. "We'll shoot while you're on hiatus. We can film it right here in Vancouver. You're not a regular, anyway, it's not like they'll need you there every day."

"How nice of you to remind me," Jared snaps. "If this is going to be an hour of you throwing your career in my face, I'm not sticking around long enough to order."

He shakes his head. It would be easy to buy that sour tone Jared's giving him and convince himself Jared is just jealous of his success. But Jensen's not that stupid, as much as he would like to be. Whatever went wrong between them, it's not because Jared is resentful of his career—he stopped talking to Jensen when he was still starring in blockbusters and Jensen was lucky if he could get a TV role or a few episodes of something to direct. Jared wants him to believe that's the problem, give up and let him leave, but Jensen is apparently a masochist.

"I need you to help me make this film," Jensen says, stressing the first few words. "I'm asking for a favor. I'm not trying to bully you."

Jared stares at him with an expression Jensen can't read. The waiter interrupts them, takes their orders cheerfully, his easy smiles only making the tension between Jared and Jensen more pronounced, and leaves them to try and pick up the conversation.

"You don't even want me in your movie anymore," Jared says after a long spell of silence. "I'm a liability."

Jensen laughs bitterly. "You should know me better than that, Jared. Unlike you, I never lied to you about who I was. You know I don't give a shit if you're gay and like to dress up like a chick, so stop trying to make me look like the bad guy. If you want to say no, don't be a fucking coward about it."

"I'm a coward?" Jared asks.

Jensen hesitates for a moment before replying. This is not what this lunch was supposed to be. He was supposed to keep this all in, keep Jared good and happy so he'd accept. But it feels nice at the same time, finally letting out just a few of the things he's been choking down for three years. "Yes," he answers. "Yes, Jared. You're a coward."

It's about last night and it isn't. Jensen can't imagine why Jared never told him he was gay, why he hid the drag queen thing, but that's not even scratching the surface. Jared ran away from _him_ , dropped their friendship like a hot potato and never even bothered to tell Jensen what he did wrong.

"You don't know anything about me," Jared says.

Two days ago, Jensen would have laughed at the assertion. Now he knows it's true. "Maybe I don't know much," he tells Jared. "But whose fault is that?"

The waiter interrupts them again, setting down Jared's salad and Jensen's sandwich and backing off quickly, not stopping to chitchat this time. They must not be giving off the friendliest of vibes.

"I know it's my fault," Jared mumbles, his face pointed down, like he's saying it to his lunch and not to Jensen. Then he picks up a fork and stabs his lettuce so hard Jensen thinks Jared must be imagining his face on the plate.

They eat quickly, silence stretching on for miles between them. Finally Jared finishes, wiping his mouth with his napkin and throwing it on the table next to his plate. "I'm not a coward," he says, as if this fight has been going strong since Jensen said it. Maybe in his head it has.

"Then tell me why you won't even look at the script," Jensen challenges.

Jared rubs a hand over his mouth, dodges his eyes away as if he's looking to someone for confirmation. Finally he turns back, his eyes meeting Jensen's dead on, and says, "Fine. I won't work with you because I don't want to work with you. That direct enough?"

"Well, it's honest at least." Jensen shoves his plate away, sitting up as he does it. "So that's it. You're not going to tell me what I did? You won't even give my movie a chance? You're just washing me right off your hands?"

"That's not—" Jared sighs. "If it helps you to think of it like that, Jensen. Sure. I washed my hands of you three years ago, and I'm not going to get them dirty again."

"What the fuck did I do to you?" Jensen asks. "I don't remember doing anything. If I was drunk or something just tell me—"

"You didn't _do_ anything," Jared answers heatedly. "We had fun with the show, the show ended. We moved on—it happens."

"Were we ever really friends?" Jensen asks, the question coming to his lips unbidden and definitely unwelcome. Jared freezes, his furious expression melting, and Jensen thinks for a flash of a second he sees regret on Jared's face. "I thought it was more than just co-workers. I thought I knew everything about you, and I didn't know anything. So did you ever like me, or was I just convenient? Because you were my best friend, Jared. You were the best friend I've ever had."

Jared reaches halfway across the table. For a brief moment, Jensen thinks he's going to offer some kind of comfort, but his expression is blank again when Jensen looks up and he pulls his hand back before standing to go. "You're not this stupid, Jensen," he says, his voice gone very quiet.

Jensen gives a stilted nod and looks down at the polished wooden floor. It's pretty impossible to misinterpret this time, and as much as it hurts, it's almost nice to have the confirmation. Three years he's been waiting for Jared to tell him straight that he imagined everything there was between them.

"Fine," Jensen manages to choke out. "Fair enough."

"Jensen," Jared says, stepping forward.

Jensen shakes his head, not really wanting to hear whatever Jared is about to tell him. "Lunch is my treat," he says, voice placid and businesslike as he can manage. "The movie offer stands if you change your mind. You know how to reach me."

Jared doesn't move, and Jensen gets irrationally angry, almost wants to lash out at him and tell him to fuck off already. But when he looks up to say it, Jared is hovering above him, his expression blown wide-open.

"I can't do your movie," he says, as if Jensen hasn't gotten the point yet. Jensen opens his mouth to reply and Jared kneels in front of him, putting his fingers just over Jensen's lips to silence him. His voice is hushed when he begins again, so only Jensen can hear him. "I can't do your movie and I can't be your friend, because I have spent the last three years trying to get over you."

Jensen feels his eyes widen and his eyebrows drawing together, and Jared gives him a watery smile. "I know what I did to you was terrible. I can't tell you how sorry I've been or how hard it was not to return your calls. But I couldn't go on living like I did when we were on the show together. I wanted to die every single day, Jen. Falling in love with you is the worst thing that ever happened to me."

Jared removes his fingers, but Jensen is still too shocked to say anything. Jared shudders out a laugh. "So you understand now. Why I kissed you last night. And why I can't work with you. And why I've been waiting three years for you to stop calling and sending Christmas cards and just give up on me already."

Jensen shakes his head. "But you never—"

Jared laughs dully and draws closer, close enough to rest his forehead against Jensen's. He puts one hand firm against the back of Jensen's neck, and, for a split second, Jensen thinks he's about to kiss him. Right here in public, in front of all these strangers, and Jensen is surprised to find his own hand lifting up, resting on Jared's wrist. Telling him it's okay, that he's welcome to do it if it'll wipe that broken look off his face.

"Be kind to me, Jensen," Jared begs, his hand slipping from Jensen's neck down, until he's got Jensen's hand wrapped in his own. He gives it a tight squeeze and then drops it. "I know I wasn't to you. But be kind to me. Just let me forget already."

And then he leaves Jensen, sitting alone with his hands in his lap. Just like he left three years ago. Just like Danneel last August. Just like everyone has done, so that Jensen is stuck at a table with nothing but an unfinished salad and a script that—

Jensen doesn't see the thick pack of bound pages anywhere, so he lifts his menu to check under it and stands to look around at the floor. His head snaps up sharply, hoping to catch a glimpse of Jared walking out, but he's disappeared and taken the script he supposedly had no interest in with him. Jensen doesn't know if he should take hope from that, or if this was supposed to be the last thing Jared had to remember him by.

One thing's for damn sure: if Jared's walking off with souvenirs, there's no way Jensen's about to be the one to give up. Maybe he'll never agree to see Jensen again, but Jensen is more than a little sick and tired of asking for permission anyway.

He takes two full days just to try and wrap his head around it all. Jared likes guys. Big, hulking, manly-man Jared dresses up like a girl sometimes just for kicks. Jared, Jensen's best friend Jared, was in love with him the whole time. And Jensen never noticed any of it.

Jensen knows there must have been a world of hints for him to miss. He remembers a day Jared was goofing off on set—all the way back when they were shooting Season One—when he ran off in the middle of getting his make-up done, when his hair was still tied up in buns, and pranced around like a girl for half an hour before Kim told him to get his ass back to Shannon. They'd taken pictures, dubbed him Jaredina, and had some good laughs about it. But Jared had been such a clown about the whole thing, like he was about everything, Jensen never would have thought to take it seriously. He remembers, too, the way Jared never could keep his hands to himself on the red carpet. Always had to hug or try climbing Jensen like a tree to keep himself grounded. Jensen craved the contact just as much as Jared did once the cameras were in his face. That's just how they were. Both of them. And, wow, he really does not want to think about what that might mean.

Those incidents aren't the answer. At least Jensen doesn't think so. That was Jared being his overstated, obnoxious self. Jensen knows there had to be subtler, more honest glimpses into this part of Jared that he simply didn't look hard enough to see, but he can't recover them now. At the end of two days, he's still stumped.

He gives up on trying to convince himself it's not surprising on the third day and decides the best he can do is try to understand. He doesn't think he'll ever be completely used to it, but that doesn't mean he can't accept it, move on, and get back to trying to salvage his and Jared's friendship.

So, on day three, Jensen calls Jared. A lot. He doesn't really expect an answer, not after all the trouble Jared's gone through to put Jensen out of his life. But he's persistent enough to call 30+ times in a row, and, knowing Jared, he's at the very least really getting on the guy's nerves.

He gets his confirmation somewhere around call number 36, when his phone vibrates with a text message.

 _Stop calling me_ , it says.

Not a chance. _Answer your phone, then._

Nothing. Nothing for so long, Jensen finally lets himself get desperate. _I really need to talk to you._

The little blip of hope he got from Jared’s text doesn't last for long. He calls 14 more times and gets no answer, until finally Jensen gives up, turns the TV on and resigns himself to spending his last night in Vancouver licking his wounds. He didn't get either of the things he came for. All he got was a steaming pile of confusion and no one to help him figure it out.

There's a knock at the door. Jensen puts the TV on mute, confused because he didn't order room service and there's not really anything else it could be, unless Jensen's pity party actually managed to warrant a noise complaint.

He opens the door and finds Jared standing on the other side. Before he even gets the chance to ask, Jared raises two big, brown, greasy bags. "Delivery," he says.

"Jared?"

"Well, don't look so surprised. You did call me a hundred million times in the last three hours." He stomps in like he owns the room and heads immediately for Jensen's couch. Jensen's so confused he just watches it happen, swinging the door shut behind Jared.

"What are you doing here, man?" he asks. "How did you even find out where I'm staying?"

Jared is already spreading containers of Chinese food out over the coffee table, taking up all of Jensen’s space. It reminds Jensen of better times, and it's cruel of Jared, giving him this much when he'll be out of reach again tomorrow. "Carlos can't keep a secret for shit, Jensen," Jared informs him as he sucks the sauce from one of the freshly opened containers off his thumb. "You can't tell him anything."

"Okay," Jensen says. "I'll try to remember that next time."

Jared smiles and pats the couch next to him. "Come. Sit."

"Is it from Hon's?"

"Where else?" Jared replies, grinning because he knows he's got Jensen.

Jensen shuffles forward and takes his place on the couch, eyeing the food Jared is spreading out. He still knows Jensen's order, down to the spring rolls they'll be fighting over in half an hour. He still knows almost everything there is to know about Jensen, and Jensen feels like he's a stranger.

"What's wrong? Dig in." Jared slides Jensen's orange chicken across the table and gives him an encouraging look.

Jensen picks up the container and a fork and pokes at the chicken before sighing and setting it back down. "Jared, you can't think after three years, and after everything you dropped on me on Monday, that you can show up with some Chinese food and it'll be just like old times."

"Obviously I don't," Jared says calmly. He digs around in his shrimp for a few seconds longer, then grudgingly looks up at Jensen. "I know I owe you some explanations. I figure you're leaving tomorrow. I can at least give you that much and then we can go our separate ways. But I didn't want to do it over the phone. I thought, I don't know. Maybe this would move it along a little. Make things as easy as possible on both of us."

Jensen nods, taking up his chicken again and trying a bite. Still as disgustingly delicious as ever. "You came to explain, so explain."

Jared laughs under his breath. "Where do you want me to start?"

"Wherever," Jensen replies. "Anything is a step above completely in the dark."

"Can I start with 'I'm sorry'?"

"Not that," Jensen says. "I don't want to hear that."

"Jensen." Jared sounds exasperated, and they haven't even started yet.

"Don't act like I'm the one being unreasonable, Jay," Jensen tells him sharply. "Don't you dare."

"Alright." Jared raises his hands, chopsticks included, in a placating gesture. "You're calling the shots. Just tell me what you want to know."

"How long?"

"How long what?" Jared asks, huffing a laugh. "How long have I been in love with you? How long have I been a drag queen? Gonna have to be more specific than that."

"How about all of it?"

"I've been doing drag since high school. At the Cobalt since maybe since Season 2? I wasn't regular there until after the show ended. I stopped while I was with Genevieve, but started up again pretty soon after the divorce." Jared swallows and gives Jensen a regretful look. "And I've lost track of when I fell in love with you. It kind of feels like always."

"You did drag in _high school_?" Jensen asks. "So you knew the whole time we were friends?"

Jared nods. "By the time we were close enough for me to risk telling you, I was in pretty deep. You gotta understand, Jensen, I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable around me. It would've been too easy to guess how I felt about you once you knew."

Jensen shakes his head. "Unbelievable," he mutters.

"You're not going to be happy with anything I tell you," Jared says. "I get that."

"Oh, really? You get why maybe it bothered me a little that you just decided to go cold turkey on our friendship the first second you could? Well, good job, Sherlock. Bet that was a hard one to figure out."

"You're such an infant when you're angry," Jared says in a warm voice that makes Jensen get even more annoyed until he looks up and sees the fond way Jared's watching him. "It's very cute."

"Fuck off, Jared." He shifts, hoping to look a little less like he’s pouting. "How do you even find out you like doing drag that young?"

Jared smiles, looking off into space nostalgically. "I was at a Halloween party, I think it was junior year, dressed up as a cheerleader. Blonde wig, little skirt, pompoms: the works. Not with any intent, it just seemed like a funny thing to do. And some drunk, handsy, asshole football player came up behind me, grabbed my ass and told me I was cute, because he thought I was a girl. I didn't look like this back then, of course, I was just a scrawny, awkward kid. I could hardly get a boy's attention most of the time, and here was this gorgeous, albeit douchey, guy coming up to talk to me like I was special. A good girl would have slapped him and told him he was a pig, but I was a horny kid and I hadn’t even realized how much I wanted to pass until I did it."

"Don't tell me that worked on you."

Jared grins. "I've done lower things for male attention. Anyway, I wanted to suck his dick, so I sucked it. He told me I was a good little slut and I'd never been so turned on in my life."

Jensen shifts uneasily, and Jared shakes his head like he's trying to clear it. "Sorry," he says with a slight blush. "Too much information?"

"No," Jensen says, wishing the idea of Jared in a short skirt, sucking dick for some stranger, made him feel the way he thinks it should, like a horrified big brother, instead of getting his blood pumping. "Just…interesting."

"Interesting?" Jared says. "Like, 'I wanna put you in a test tube and study you for science' interesting?"

Jensen rolls his eyes as he chuckles. "So it's not just fun to you? You really—you really wanna be a girl?"

"A woman," Jared corrects, his expression is slightly wounded for the second before he looks down and Jensen can't see it anymore. "I don't want to be. It's not about wanting. Sometimes I just am."

"You…I'm sorry, Jared, I don't get that."

"I'm not asking you to," he says.

"I want to. I want to be a good friend to you. You have to give me the chance, though. I'm trying."

"Some days I wake up and I'm Jared and some days I'm someone else. Someone who likes boas and dresses and high heels and feeling less like an ogre than a princess. And on those days it's really pretty tough to go on pretending to be Jared." Jared scrubs a hand over his mouth, shrugging slightly as he looks up. "Does that make you uncomfortable?"

Yes, but not in the way Jared seems to expect. Somehow Jared being female thrills him; it doesn't just make him feel sexual excitement, but something else too. He can't put a name on it. He doesn't even want to acknowledge it's there. "No," he lies.

Jared relaxes some, nodding as he sits back. "I always enjoyed your company, Jensen. Always. But it was so hard for that girl, not being able to close the gap and kiss you. It’s hard enough for me. Sitting on this couch right now is torture, but on the days I had to keep her locked up, too? It was draining, Jensen. It was too much. I _had_ to get away from it."

"You didn't have to hide her from me. You never should have hidden anything from me."

"That's so easy to say when it's not your problem," he answers, his voice icier than Jensen thinks he's ever heard it.

"Are you an idiot?" Jensen asks, meeting Jared's chill with his own. "Do you think I had to be in love with you to love you? Do you think for one moment that just because I didn't want to fuck you you couldn't break my heart? Because you broke it, Jared. In about a hundred different places, and I could kill you for sitting there telling me it's not my problem."

"I'm sorry, Jen. I wish there'd been another way. It was self-preservation. It was the only thing I could do."

Jensen stares at the food on the table, all growing cold because Jensen's got no appetite at this point. "Did it work, at least?"

"Did what work?"

"Cutting me out. Did it work? Are you happy and free of me? Doesn't really sound like it." Jensen's voice rises. "Because if it did, then we should be able to work together. We can be friends again. But what I'm hearing from you is—"

"No, it obviously didn't work," Jared barks, his words nearly a scream. He keeps his eyes trained on the muted TV screen and his voice lowers once he's shut Jensen up. "Not even a little bit. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Jensen stands abruptly, kicking the coffee table just for being near him. Jared starts at the sound, and he stares up with wide eyes. "Jense—?"

"Fuck you, Jared. Fuck you so hard," he says, shaking with all the anger suddenly fighting to break out of him. He wants to lash out at Jared, give him a good solid punch. A hit to the jaw that will splinter him, hurt maybe a fraction as much as he's hurt Jensen. "For no reason. No fucking reason. You did that to me and it didn't even work?"

"I had to try," Jared pleads, as if that puny little sentence is going to fix what he did. "It was easier to pretend it was working before you came back."

"I needed you," Jensen says, his voice breaking. "Jared, do you have any idea how much I needed you? When Danneel and I—"

"I know," Jared says quietly. "I know what happened with you and Danneel."

"Yeah? Do you know why?" Jensen's hands curl into fists. "Because if you knew and you still wouldn't talk to me…I'm done. I'll leave tomorrow, and you can rest assured you'll never have to see me again."

Jared keeps his head bowed so Jensen can't see his expression. He reaches out for a napkin and begins wiping invisible stains off the coffee table, as if that's gonna distract either of them right now. "I didn't let myself listen to your voicemails."

"We couldn't have a baby, Jared," Jensen tells him coolly. "We couldn't. We tried so hard for years, and it tore us apart."

Jared's head snaps up sharply, and he meets Jensen's eyes. How he can meet Jensen's eyes right now, Jensen isn't sure, but he's a lot more satisfied than he should be to see Jared's almost crying. "Jen, I didn't know. I'm so sorry. Oh god." He puts a hand over his mouth. "Jensen, I'm so, so sorry."

Jensen's body slumps down onto the couch, feeling the anger start to drain. He's too fucking tired of carrying this around to stay mad now that he finally has someone to talk to. "She was fine." He buries his face in his hands. "They did all these tests and she was fine. So it had to be me, right? There was something wrong with me."

"No," Jared says. Jensen doesn't look up to see him moving closer, just feels the side of Jared's body as it settles next to him. The cushions shift and then a big warm hand moves down his spine. "There's nothing wrong with you, Jensen. It wasn't your fault."

Jensen shakes his head. He feels a sob trying to escape and chokes it down. "I needed you to tell me that a year ago, man. Where the fuck were you a year ago?"

Jared doesn't answer. He's apparently finally done trying to defend himself. He tugs Jensen in, and Jensen can't fight the urge to rest his face against his best friend's chest and finally let himself cry.

"I'm not a real man," Jensen says. "I'm not good for anything."

"Shh." Jared's big hand strokes over the back of Jensen's head. "Shh, Jensen. Of course you are."

Jensen shakes his head. "All we wanted was a baby. I couldn't even give her—"

Jensen hears the kiss Jared presses to the top of his head more than he feels it, but the weight of Jared's cheek resting against him as he pulls Jensen in tighter makes him shut up, swallow his words, and let everything out without having to say it.

It's a long time before Jensen pulls back, wiping at his eyes with his hand. He's not embarrassed for crying—Jared's the only person he's ever felt comfortable being this vulnerable in front of. Even Danneel, he'd always tried to stay strong for her. He feels better now, lighter, but hollow and exhausted, like Jared just wrung him out and left the last three years in a puddle on the floor.

"You know," Jared says, distracted, almost like he's talking to himself. He brushes the tips of his fingers on Jensen's cheek and smiles faintly. "When I first met you, I thought that if I could make a man like you want me, I'd feel like a real woman. You were everything a man is supposed to be. Don't ever let yourself believe otherwise."

"Not that I don't appreciate it," Jensen says as playfully as he can manage, "but you're talking in past tense."

Jared gives him a weary smile. "Well, one day I woke up and realized you were the _only_ man who could do that for me, but that's beside the point."

Jensen wipes at his eyes, and Jared watches with a resigned look on his face.

"I can't make things up to you, Jensen. I know I can't. There's no way to say sorry enough times to change what I did."

"I don't care," Jensen replies. "I didn't come to Vancouver to hear you apologize. I don't want to fight. Shit, I was trying to avoid it. Even if I should be angry. I don't want to be angry with you. I used to try to make myself feel it, as if hating you would change how much it hurt not to have you. But I couldn't, and it wouldn't help anyway. I just want to know you'll never push me away again. That you'll be there the next time I need you."

Jared hangs his head sadly. "I can't make that promise. I can't be that for you," he says. "You're so good, Jensen. You're so good to me, and I know it's not fair. But after you leave tomorrow, find someone who deserves you and depend on them. I'm not that person."

The idea of going home tomorrow, back to where it's lonely, and leaving Jared up here missing him is like an arrow, fast and sharp through his chest. But Jensen doesn't know what else he can say. All he can think to do is eat some crappy takeout with his friend and relish the company for the stunted time he still has it.

So he unmutes the TV and hands Jared the remote, and thank God for small miracles, Jared gets what he's asking for.

It feels kind of…well, stupid. On the way here, flowers had seemed like a fairly obvious gesture. Jared's performing, right? Technically. That's what you do when someone is in a show. It's how Jared's parents had greeted him when they'd come to see him in _A Few Good Men_ all those years ago.

Now that he's standing in a half-empty gay bar, milling around by himself with a bouquet of roses for a guy who has solidly kicked his ass in at least 25 separate farting contests, it definitely feels stupid. Like a meaningless gesture—too much or not enough or just too easy to misread. Jensen doesn't even know what they mean, how is Jared or Anita or whoever comes out of that dressing room supposed to understand?

But Hallmark didn't exactly have an "I'm sorry you fell in love with me and didn't tell me you're a drag queen but can we still be friends?" card. They're really falling down on the job these days.

"Can I help you?"

The voice is sharp, coming from just a few inches to Jensen's right, and he starts when he hears it, wondering how the man was able to sneak up on him. Maybe he was too distracted staring down the hall at Jared's dressing room, hyper focusing so his friend doesn’t get a chance to slip past him.

It's the host of the show. Jensen knows his stage name is Marie, but he's not dressed up yet. He's still a middle-aged, pale man with dark bags under his eyes, a smudge of purple glitter on his cheek where he must have missed a spot washing it off. Jensen can only tell it's the same guy from his voice and the way his arms are crossed over his chest, face stony and unwelcoming. He'd looked at Jensen just like this last Sunday, right before Jensen had talked to Anita and figured out what was going on.

"I'm just waiting to see—"

The man, whatever his real name is, doesn't even let him finish. "Why don't you go home already, huh?"

Jensen shakes his head, raising the flowers as if they'll explain something.

"The show isn't for hours," he continues. "You don't belong here."

"Please," Jensen says. "Can't you just tell Jared I'm here? He'll come out if—"

"He knows you're here," the man replies, though his voice softens some as he delivers the blow. "He doesn't want to see you."

"I have to talk to him," Jensen insists.

The host looks at Jensen's face for a long few seconds, then throws a glance over his shoulder, down the hall to where the dressing rooms are. He turns back, shaking his head just a bit. "Sweetheart, you don't want to do this."

Jensen lets out a bitter laugh. This guy doesn’t even know him, and Jensen's not bothering anyone. He just wants a damn chance to see his friend. "I'm not your sweetheart and don't tell me what I want," he snaps. "Look, I don't know what you think I'm going to do but—"

"You've already done it," he says. "I know the history between you two. And I'm not trying to be a bitch here, I know you won't hurt him on purpose. But I also know what he's been like ever since you two stopped working together. You don't. You're harming him just by being in this city. Go home if you really care about him."

Jensen feels his eyebrows drawing together. "What are you even talking about?"

The guy sighs, checking the hallway behind him again to make sure they're alone. He leans closer, his voice lowering so only Jensen can hear. "Straight boys. That's Anita's poison. Straight boys who wander in here by accident, because they're confused or bored or just looking for anything they can get. Boys who chew her up and spit her out in the morning, who are embarrassed and disgusted and just trying her on to see if she fits. Two drinks and she goes home with them, and she comes back fucked up the next day for me to fix. You know why she chooses them?"

Jensen swallows hard, casting his eyes to the ground. "Because of me," he says quietly, remembering just how pointedly Jared had dismissed him last week for the exact opposite reason.

"Anita or Jared—either way, he could have anyone he wants in this whole damn place. He chooses the ones who make him feel cheap because they remind him of you. Does that sound like healthy behavior?"

Jensen shakes his head, then looks up to meet the man's eyes. "I never did that to him. Her. Whatever." He rubs his free hand over his mouth and decides fuck it. Jensen is not above begging. "I'm not going to leave before you let me by. I lost him once already. I'm not letting him hide from me anymore."

"Well, you're one stubborn sonofabitch, I'll give you that." He laughs and Jensen huffs a little amused breath, but he crosses in front of Jensen, leaning in the hallway. Blocking Jensen's path. "I'm still not letting you see him. You're not the only friend he's got, you know."

"Zach, it's okay."

Jensen and the guy, Zach apparently, both freeze when they hear Jared's voice. Jensen looks up into the hallway and Zach turns around immediately. Jared is only half Anita, wig and dress not on yet, but he's started his make-up and the satin robe tied around his waist is a pale pink. Decidedly feminine.

One week later, the sight still makes Jensen feel dazed and sluggish.

"It's okay," Jared says again, his voice soft and resigned. He smiles dimly at Zach. "Jensen can come in."

Jensen can't help giving Zach a smug look as he shoulders past, following Jared down three doors to the one that has a handwritten log of who gets it on what days, Anita's name scrawled in under Sunday in Jared's messy print.

Jared signals for him to close the door behind him, and then he turns, bracing his arms on the vanity along the wall as he presses his back into it. Jensen looks around the room—raspberry-colored velvet couch, vanity with lights all around it, wigs and boas propped on every flat surface. It's not different from most of the dressing rooms Jensen's seen in his life, just a little campier.

"What are you doing here, Jen?" Jared asks, and Jensen stops gawking at the dressing room, focusing his attention on Jared instead.

He holds his arm out awkwardly, yellow and white roses extended toward Jared. "I brought you these," he says.

Jared hesitates for a moment before reaching out to take them. He brings them to his face, smelling them for a moment before he starts to poke the petals lightly. "Don't people usually give flowers at the end of the show?"

Jensen laughs. "Well, I was early. Figured I might as well get them off my hands."

It's still a little rocky, but they've said more than six words and aren’t fighting yet. Jensen just loves low standards.

"They're lovely," Jared finally admits. "Thank you, Jensen."

"Hey, no problem. I know you're gonna put on a good show, so."

Jared's smile is too tight, and it falls the moment he turns his back on Jensen. Jensen looks away from the mirror. He still can't stand to see Jared that wounded, even after how much Jared has hurt him. 

"I thought you were only going to be in town a few days," he says casually. He has a vase on the edge of the vanity and he drops the bouquet in.

"Extended the trip a week. No rush, you know? I don't even have a leading man cast, so it's not like we're going to start filming soon."

Jared sits down at the stool in front of the mirror and picks up a make-up brush. There's already powder on it, like Jared paused in the middle of something to come get him. Maybe he was worried Zach was only moments from clawing out Jensen's eyes. The thought had crossed Jensen's mind a few times.

"Shouldn't you be in L.A., then? Scouting one out?"

"I've kind of got my heart set on someone." Jensen glances over to the coffee table in front of the couch and can't contain his smirk when he spots the open pages. "I see you've been reading the script."

Jared stops applying his blush for a moment before continuing as if Jensen didn’t say anything.

"Do you like it?" he pushes. "It's a good role, right?"

"It's an amazing role," Jared concedes. "And a pretty decent script."

Jensen steps forward, just enough so Jared can see him in the mirror's reflection. "Have you maybe thought about changing your mind, then?"

Jared sighs, shaking his head. He's got a big smile on his face all of a sudden, the first genuine one Jensen's seen from his friend since Anita was on stage a week ago. "You always were pretty shitty at taking no for an answer."

"You know it," he replies. "You might as well say yes, save us both a lot of trouble."

Jared sets his brush aside, and Jensen thinks he's done with his make-up until he grabs a tube of thick, pink liquid lipstick and starts to apply it. There's a hot pull low in Jensen's belly when Jared pulls it away, smacks his lips together. They're bright and wet in the mirror.

The floor is a good thing to look at right now.

"Jensen, we talked about this."

"You worked with me for ten years. Non-stop for ten years. You can't do three months for a movie?"

Jared reaches out, swiping one of his thumbs over the edge of a yellow rose petal. "I don't want to fight with you. Please don't make me. Just go home."

"Everyone here keeps telling me to do that," Jensen says, trying to keep his voice light. "And then back home they all tell me I need to go on vacation. I'm starting to suspect my company's not as enjoyable as I thought it was."

"It's plenty enjoyable, Jen. It's too enjoyable." Jared stands, brushing a hair away from his eyes, and turns to face Jensen. It catches Jensen off guard, seeing him directly. Seeing her directly. She's transformed somehow. It's not like Anita, not so obviously an illusion. It's not a performance. It's just a woman, but one he can see his best friend in as clear as anything. That same stupid strand of hair still pops up on the right side, the one Jeannie always used to say she was gonna cut off.

Jensen steps forward without even realizing he's doing it, tries to tuck it back behind her ear. Jared's breath catches. She leans into the touch like it’s instinct.

"Fuck," Jensen says, eyes scanning over her face, drinking her in. "You're beautiful."

Jared pulls away then, ducking her head. "Please stop saying that to me."

He laughs, letting his hand fall limply to his side. "It's not an insult where I come from."

"Even if you're not mocking me like I thought you were. It's not true, I know that. I don't need you to feel sorry for me."

Jensen shakes his head. "You're dead set on thinking the worst of me, huh?"

Jared looks up at him, a little sorry, but not nearly enough to apologize. "I kind of have to," she says. "It's easier when you're not around."

"Tough shit," Jensen tells her, grinning. "You're stuck with me for at least another couple of days."

Jared rolls her eyes, turning her back to Jensen. She lowers her robe a little, and Jensen feels his cheeks burn hot, even though he's seen Jared in every state of undress imaginable. Something about the dainty robe makes him feel like he shouldn't be looking.

Instead of the broad expanse of tan flesh he's expecting, Jensen is greeted by a black and red corset unlaced around her middle. She lets the robe rest on her waist and smiles at Jensen over her shoulder, fidgeting with the hooks on the side of the corset. "If you're gonna be in here, you might as well be useful. I do have a show in an hour."

Jensen nods, trying not to be too obvious as he looks over the feminine curves the corset gives her, the modest rise of her breasts in a bodice that is straining trying to hold the rest of her. "What, uh," Jensen licks his lips, "what do you want me to do?"

"Lace me up," she tells him, like she's asking him to run to the store for some eggs. Like she has no fucking idea what she's doing to Jensen.

He takes the ends of the ribbon running through the back and starts to tie them together, and Jared laughs, reaching behind herself to stop Jensen's hands.

"You have to tighten it first, dumbass." Jensen hears the fondness in the insult and almost says something stupid in his excitement. Almost points it out. Jared hasn't talked to him like that since they filmed their last episode together.

"How tight do you want it?"

"As much as it'll go. Really pull at it. Not easy to get the zippers up on those gowns."

He tugs, pausing to see if Jared wants him to pull it tighter. She nods encouragingly, and he sees it in the mirror, holds her eyes as he moves down, tugging again. She keeps his gaze, her own hazel darkening, and Jensen thinks probably it's a little weird that helping a woman put her clothes on is making him this hot.

"Tell me when to stop," he says, about three holes away from the bottom. "If it's too tight. I won't know, you have to tell me."

Her lips curve up at the edges, and her eyes go soft. "I know, Jen. I know you won't hurt me. Keep going. Nice and tight. I can take it."

"How do you breathe?" he asks, reaching the bottom. Tying the nicest bow he can manage before Jared swats him away so she can do that part on her own, make the loops elegant instead of the floppy bunny ears Jensen had been in the middle of.

"I like the way it feels," she admits, standing up and pacing a few steps to try out the fit. "It makes me feel pretty." She lets out a quiet, self-deprecating laugh and then adds, as if she's just trying to beat Jensen to saying it, "I know I'm not. It just feels that way."

Jensen frowns. "Why are you so hard on yourself?"

Jared looks at him. Opens her mouth. Doesn't say a word before she closes it, shaking her head as she turns away and pulls her robe back up to her shoulders. Her body is a perfect hourglass now as she ties the sash around the corset. "Which dress do you like best?"

She runs her hands over a long, bubblegum pink dress with rhinestones crawling up the length of it in a shimmering wave and a green one with puffy sleeves that will probably stop at her knees. Jensen isn't sure how to tell her not to do either, that they're both too much. She's perfect just like this, casual and real and not for anyone but Jensen to look at.

"Pink," he says.

She rises to her tiptoes, about to pull the dress down from the hanger she's propped it on top of her dresser with, and Jensen comes up behind her, stopping her wrist by wrapping his own hand around it.

"Not yet," he whispers into her ear and he feels her freeze. "Let me see you."

Jared's breath is shaky and quiet. She doesn't move an inch, like she's scared moving will spook Jensen. He puts his other hand on her hip, pressing in slowly so she can stop him if she wants to. Her breath quickens at the touch.

"Jensen," she says, voice hushed. "Why are you doing this?"

"I didn't know," he tells her, turning her carefully. He tips her chin down with his thumb. "I'm so sorry I didn't know."

He's been beating himself up over it for days. How do you live with a guy and not notice him sneaking out once a week dressed like a drag queen? Jensen never even suspected Jared was gay. He was probably fucking guys while Jensen was just a few rooms over. How the hell did he miss that?

He'd felt stupid and tricked but this isn't about that. This is about it taking Jared dressed up and sparkling and kissing him for Jensen to realize who and what he really wanted. God, that ache Jensen's been mourning for the last three years—it's been there so much longer than he realized. It's been there since the first time Jared wanted him and didn't get to act on it.

"Can I kiss you?" Jensen asks.

Jared doesn’t give him an answer. Instead there's a big hand wrapped around the back of his neck, pulling him down so fast and rough he probably wouldn't be able to fight it if he wanted to. He gets a hint of watermelon and realizes Jared's going to have to do her make-up all over again. He licks the sticky taste off Jared's bottom lip, not feeling particularly sorry.

Jared pulls away from the kiss, eyes so dark Jensen wants to make a demon joke, but he doesn’t get a chance before she's backing him up. His ass presses against the couch rear and he opens his mouth to ask, but she shuts him up with another open-mouthed kiss.

"Just let me," she mumbles, dropping to her knees.

Jensen swallows hard, looking down at her as she fusses with his jeans, too eager to work at them rationally. He's already starting to get hard by the time she finally manages to open them and shove his underwear down to his ankles.

She doesn't hesitate. Jensen's only ever seen this much enthusiasm in porn, and it turns him on so much he nearly whimpers, but he stops himself and pulls her back before she can get her mouth on him.

She looks up, clearly expecting him to have changed his mind.

"What—uh, what do you want me to call you? Anita?" Jensen realizes only after asking how stupid the question was. He worries he hurt her, or that he should know the answer already, just as instinctively as he should have known who Jared really was.

She sits back on her feet, her right hand reaching up. Three fingers and a thumb find his thigh, and she cups it as if she were turning a face toward her. "I don't care," she answers, though she doesn't sound like someone who doesn't care. "Call me what you want. You can pretend I'm whoever you want. I don't care. Just let me have you this once."

Jensen stops her again before she can move forward. "What do you want me to call _you_?"

She keeps her eyes trained on the slow, soft motion of her touch as it moves down Jensen's leg and she answers in a whisper, "You used to call me Jay sometimes. You were the only one who ever did that." She lifts her face up to see Jensen's and gives him a weak smile. "I used to love it. It was like you knew…"

She casts her eyes to the ground and shakes her head, as if to dismiss the rest of the thought, but that's okay. Jensen doesn't need to hear it. He understands. He finally understands.

"Jay," he says, reaching down to catch her chin and make her look up at him again.

She looks shattered and Jensen wants to hate himself, but she looks so happy too. Her smile is pained, he knows that, but it's wide and bright. Jay is a goddess when she smiles.

"Jay," he says again, just because she seems to like hearing it, and as she presses a kiss to the head of his dick, Jensen thinks _Jay could be his girl_.

Jensen's legs feel like putty by the time she's done with him. It's been a long time since he had any kind of sex, since Danneel and not often by the end of that, and that definitely has something to do with it. But it's mostly Jay—Jared, Anita—this whole fucking thing and what it means and what she does to him and the way she looked like it was a blessing as she swallowed him down.

He hasn't had a single drink, but he sways his way back out into the club and gives Carlos a boozy grin as he sits down anyway.

Carlos looks him over once, assessing the situation with an apologetic shake of his head. "Robbie makes a deadly Long Island," he says. "I would have warned if I knew you were into girly drinks."

"Not drunk," Jensen says, raising a hand to summon one of the waitresses. "Yet."

"Don't tell me you took something from one of the tweekers by the bathroom," Carlos jokes. "You're way too old and way too straight for that shit."

"What if I'm not?" Jensen asks. Carlos gives him a look, and Jensen chuckles, shaking his head. "Not the drugs, I mean. Just…"

The waitress stops by and takes their orders, and Jensen uses the time to try and figure out what he even wants to say. He is straight. He's always been; it was never a question for him. But Jared just pushed buttons Jensen didn't even know he had.

"If I weren't straight, how would I know that?"

"Aren't you a little too old for this crisis to be happening now? Jesus, can't even take a guy to a drag ball these days without—" Carlos's eyes widen, and he stares at Jensen in shock. "Oh, you dog. You didn't."

Jensen can feel his cheeks flushing, but he can't swallow his smile. He can't contain how good he feels, happy for the first time in so goddamn long because he's got a girl and his best friend again all in one lightning flash, and he sort of wants to climb up on the stage and announce it to every person in the Cobalt.

Their drinks arrive, and Jensen takes a sip from his beer to sober himself before replying. "We…yeah."

"Dios mio," Carlos mutters. "What did I do? Oh god, Jensen, I never should have brought you here. This is a disaster."

Jensen laughs, waving a dismissive hand in Carlos's general direction. "Calm down, why would it be a disaster?"

"He's in love with you, Jensen. You do know that, right?"

His smile grows even wider. Lovable is not something Jensen honestly ever expected to be again. "He is. So what?"

"So you're straight?"

Jensen shrugs. He's been trying to reason himself through this since Jared came over on Thursday, and maybe he's not quite in control of what the hell he's feeling or what it means, but for Jared—Jay—he's willing to jump and hope the rest of it catches him before he hits the floor. "I thought I was a week ago, but then a week ago I also thought Jared was straight and pretty butch, and yet tonight he wore a dress and got on his knees for me and I loved it. I'm thinking maybe things can change."

Carlos shakes his head, about to say something, and Jensen can't decide if he's more hurt or angry. Zach was one thing—that guy doesn't know Jensen, doesn't know the first thing about him or his relationship with Jared. But Carlos was there for Supernatural, those 10 years he and Jared had. Maybe he wasn't all that close to them most of the time, but Jensen was sort of hoping it would be apparent to him.

"Why can't it work? What's so impossible about it?" Jensen wipes perspiration off the bottle in front of him. "I feel so good. I haven't felt this way since my wife left me. I've been missing him and I've been missing Danneel—I feel like I could spend the rest of my life with Jay and never miss another damn thing."

"Jay?" Carlos asks.

Jensen just shrugs and looks down at his bottle. "I've loved him for thirteen years. Why's it so impossible to believe I can love him a new way if I never stopped loving him?"

Carlos sits quietly, his fingers drumming on the table, until finally he leans forward, smiling softly. "Ah, call me a sucker, but I think it's kind of wonderful."

A microphone crackles loudly through the club and the lights flicker out. "Alright bitches, that's enough girl talk," Marie announces from the stage. She's dressed as a poodle this time. Jensen smiles to himself, wondering if this is something he could get used to.

He's not even a little bit surprised that Anita doesn't make an appearance in the club after the show. Jensen has finally figured out Jared's avoidance thing and figures it's going to fall on him to work around it.

"Just a minute," he hears from inside when he knocks on her dressing room door.

It's more like five before it finally opens, and Jensen feels a slight punch of disappointment when he sees what took so long. She’s cleaned all the make-up off her face and changed into a t shirt and jeans.

"Jay," Jensen says by way of greeting.

"Jared," Jared replies, holding the door open as he turns his back and walks further into the room. "Got no chance in hell of sending you away unless I'm Jared."

"No reason to send me away," Jensen tells him as he shuts the noise of the club out. "I just want to talk."

"Haven't we talked enough?" Jared asks.

Jensen barks out a laugh, thinking of Jay on her knees for him. "There wasn't much conversation going on."

Jared's cheeks redden just a little and he looks away. "Fine. Talk then."

"Why are you acting like this is a fight?" he asks, shocked at how cold Jared's tone is. Once upon a time, Jared was the opposite of confrontational. He used to be the one talking Jensen down. "Does this have to be a fight?"

"Well, it depends on what you want to talk about. But I'm thinking I already know. You want me to give you a good reason for what I did? I've given you the only reason I've got. There's nothing left to say. Forgive me or don't, but stop using how I feel for you against me. However you're trying to punish me, you've made your point. Just leave me alone, please."

"Jared," Jensen says. "I get it. You're forgiven. I'm not trying to punish you. But we kind of have some other issues between us now."

"What, because I sucked your dick?" Jared laughs. "I've done that for a lot of guys, and most of them spared me the trouble of having to psychoanalyze it."

"You're not gonna get rid of me that easily. Not by being cruel or petty or refusing to answer my phone calls. I'm not losing you again, so you can just skip right past all that, it's not helping."

Jared sits on the stool in front of his make-up table and turns his back on Jensen. Jensen's eyes follow Jared's fingers as they come up to play with the roses Jensen brought him, and he smiles at that. At least Jared's not pulling off pretending he doesn't care.

"Your parents brought me flowers just like those when—"

Jensen stops at the memory, suddenly floored by the realization that Jared's family hadn't just been kind to him. They'd been so open. They'd made him feel like he was one of them. Even at the time, even with how much he appreciated it, Jensen hadn't known what he'd done to make them like him so much.

"Do they know?" Jensen blurts out. "About you? That you're gay?"

"Whatever I am, yes they know," Jared says quietly. "I told them when I was a kid."

Jensen swallows and nods. "They thought we were…"

"They hoped." Jared laughs quietly. "Don't worry, Jensen. I let them know just how not gonna happen it was. Your unwavering heterosexuality remains untarnished."

He rolls his eyes. "First of all, that's not why I was asking. Second, do you really think that's such a big concern for me after what happened earlier?"

"You're not gay," Jared tells him. "You've never been even remotely gay. One blowjob does not change that."

Jensen pushes a hand through his hair. "You think I don't know I'm straight? You think I haven't tried telling myself that a million times since you kissed me last week? I'm not gay, but Jared, that's not changing the fact that I want—"

Jared slams a hand down on the vanity, his head shaking and his long hair with it. "Stop it. Stop it, stop it, stop it. Whatever this is—whatever late onset confusion or mid-life crisis this is, I can't be how you work it out, Jensen. I can't. I've been that before. So many times, for so many people, but I'll fucking lose it if I have to watch you remember that I'm not what you want. I'm sick of it already. Can't you just go to someone else?"

"If that's all you think this is, then why the hell did you kiss me?" Jensen steps away from Jared and paces toward the center of the room. "Why'd you offer to suck me off if you thought I was just going to change my mind?"

"Because I'm human, Jensen," Jared replies. "Because I'm only human. You came to _my_ club. You came to _my_ dressing room. You _looked at me_ like I was one of those pretty girls you used to date. How much am I supposed to be able to fight? You think you're the only one who was lonely these last three years?"

"Then stop trying to chase me away. Stop assuming the worst of me. God, Jared, you don't make any sense. You've got over a decade of fair warning, I've got a week. I should be the one freaking out here. If I'm ready to go out on this limb, why the hell aren't you?"

"You'll be fine when it doesn't work for you. You'll have lost a week and maybe a little bit of your self-assurance. I'll be dead. That's why."

"You think I'm that cruel, Jared? You think I'm playing with you, that I would even think about touching you if I wasn't sure I want this? What did I ever do to make you distrust me like that?"

"It's been a week," he says, stressing the last word. "I don't care how sure you think you are now. You'll change your mind."

"Remember when I called you a coward?" Jensen's jaw clenches. "I was right. I didn't even realize how right I was."

"I'm scared," Jared concedes. "I'm man enough to admit that."

"You're going to ruin our only chance because you're too chickenshit to give me a shot." He finds Jared's eyes in the mirror. "All I want is to be happy again. And this last week, even with all the fighting, it's the only time I've been able to even conceive of being happy since I lost Danny. You think it's just some passing attraction that's making me say this? I don't have passing attractions anymore, Jared. I haven't wanted anything for over a year and suddenly all I can do is want. I want you. I want every stupid thing about you, even your god awful logic. I want to make you feel whole. Why won't you just let us try?"

Jared is quiet for a spell. "You're really serious about this?"

Jensen nods. "One date," he says. "Let me take you out once to prove it."

"Just once? Think I'm that easy, do ya?" Jared's voice is shakier than he probably intends, and the bravado is all gone once the words leave him. He looks down at his hands, then back up at Jensen hesitantly. "Maybe I oughta take what I can get while I've still got the chance."

It’s been ages since he last saw this house, but somehow the walk up the driveway still feels familiar. Almost like coming home, even though this hasn’t been home since before he and Danneel got engaged. It stopped feeling like it in the first year of marital bliss, when it was Jared and Genevieve’s and Jensen was happy to belong somewhere else.

He thought that might make picking Jared up here uncomfortable, but he hears the barking start when he’s still seven feet from the entrance, and he feels ten years younger and a lifetime lighter. He doesn’t get a chance to knock before the sound alerts Jared of his presence, just like old times, even if the ruckus has been cut in half.

It’s Jay who opens the door and smiles at him.

“Hey,” she says.

She’s stooped over, holding Sadie back by the collar, but she gives up once the dog sees Jensen. Sadie’s gotten old in the last few years, but she either remembers Jensen or she’s every bit as unfaithful as Jared always used to say she was, because she does her best to jump up for attention. Whatever the motive, Jensen is more than happy to get down on one knee and let the dog lick him, her tail wagging madly behind her.

“Hey girl,” he says, patting her neck. “Did you miss me?”

Sadie barks and Jay rolls her eyes. “You probably just smell like bacon,” she says, walking into the house and leaving the door for Jensen to shut.

He gives Sadie a few more seconds of attention before rising to his feet and following her inside. “Who says I’ve had bacon today?”

“You always smell like bacon,” Jay replies. “Why do you think I’m attracted to you, your personality?”

Jensen glares at the back of her head, but Jay only gives him a self-pleased smirk when she turns to face him. “I need to walk the little lady, if you want to come with.”

Jensen looks her over. Her hair is half up, pinned in the back so it curls around her face in beautiful ringlets. She’s wearing a bright yellow halter top and cutoff jeans, and the boots on her legs do more to exaggerate how long they are than to keep them warm. She looks so good his blood feels hot, but the idea of letting her out like that makes him feel like a dad on prom night. It’s early winter in Canada, and she’s from Texas for Pete’s sake.

“You didn’t really dress for the weather there, did you?”

“I’ll grab a coat,” she says, shrugging as she pulls Sadie’s leash off the hook by the door and tosses it to Jensen. “Get her ready to go, will you?”

Jensen nods. “Make sure it's a really big coat,” he replies, grabbing Sadie’s face and talking directly to the dog. “Your mommy is going to freeze to death and everyone will blame me.”

“It’s the price we girls pay for fashion,” Jay yells out. She’s disappeared into the coat closet and when she finally emerges, Jensen can’t help laughing.

“This big enough for you?” she asks through a giant fake leopard skin coat. It’s so long it fluffs around her neck like a pillow and very nearly reaches her feet. “Alright, Mr. Director. I’m ready for my close-up.”

He shakes his head, watching as she strolls dramatically forward. “You’re a ridiculous human being,” he tells her.

She pauses and pouts her shiny pink lips at him. “You’re no fun anymore.”

Jensen grabs the door handle and Jay’s eyes follow his hand until she steps forward and stops him. “You don’t have to go out with me like this,” she says before he can open it. “Someone might recognize you.”

Jensen frowns. “Are you kidding me right now?”

Her lips thin, but she lets go of his wrist and lets him turn the latch. “I’m just…I’m just saying. I’m not really famous anymore. Not enough that anyone will recognize me like this. But you? The paparazzi’s going to notice if you walk outside with someone like me. It could hurt your reputation.”

Jensen shrugs it off. “Pretty sure they’d notice anyone standing next to that thing,” he says, poking her coat fondly.

She gives him a grudging smile and locks the door behind them, taking Sadie’s leash from him as they begin to walk. Jensen turns instinctively in the direction of the park, and that makes Jay’s smile soften.

“Is that how this started?” Jensen asks. “Anita, I mean. Was it so you could go to the clubs without being recognized?”

Jay looks out at the street pensively, and she’s quiet so long Jensen wonders if the question upset her. Finally she replies, “Maybe. A little bit. I don’t know.” She shakes her head. “I told myself that at first. When I wasn’t quite ready to admit…” She bites her bottom lip. “Mostly this is just me, Jensen. And I’m so goddamn tired of pretending it isn’t. I won’t anymore. Not for my career, not for anything. Not even—not even if it means I can’t have you.” She lets out a bitter laugh. “At least I learned that much from my marriage.”

“Genevieve,” Jensen says, trying to figure out how to phrase the question, “did she, uh, catch you?”

“I never cheated on her, if that’s what you’re asking,” she replies.

“But she knew? About Anita? Is that why you guys split?”

Jay tugs Sadie’s leash away from a bush and starts walking, leaving Jensen to catch up with them. “We split for about a hundred reasons, and this was just one of them. I don’t actually know how much she knew about it or how she found out. Honestly, toward the end, we both knew just enough to really gut each other. It wasn’t pretty.”

Jensen nods. He remembers. His break with Danneel was more sad than angry, and they parted on something like amicable terms. But that doesn’t mean he’s forgotten the fights, that nasty impulse to say the worst thing possible, or what it felt like to hear those things from someone he loved. He takes Jay’s hand and squeezes it, trying to offer comfort, but she just shakes her head.

“I should never have married her,” she admits. “I loved her the best I could, but it wasn’t ever gonna be enough. I knew that, even at the time. I should have listened to Sandy, as she’s been so eager to remind me every time I’ve seen her in the last four years.”

“Sandy?” Jensen asks, surprised. He’d almost forgotten about Sandy. “Sandy knows?”

Jay lets her head fall back as she laughs deeply, and Jensen watches until she manages to get herself under control. “Oh god, I forgot anyone took that seriously. Sandy always knew.”

“What?” Jensen stops, and Sadie takes the opportunity to sniff at a nearby tree. “But you two were—”

“So cute it was disgusting,” Jay supplies cheerfully. “We really put on a show, huh?”

Jensen tries to wrap his head around it. “So she was, like, your beard?”

“Pretty much.” Jay’s smile falters. “And then she wasn’t.”

“What happened?” Jensen asks, laughing just a bit. “How do you get dumped by a beard?”

“I asked her to marry me. Actually marry me.” Jay grins the way Jared used to when he’d pulled a particularly good prank. “Told her I was going to be a good husband and love her right and try so hard to be normal. She laughed in my face. Told me I was crazy and called off the whole thing.”

Jensen frowns despite her mocking tone. “Why would you do that? If you already knew you were into men?”

Jay leads Sadie off the path and sits on a blue bench under a big tree; she indicates that Jensen should come sit next to her, so he does.

“One day I looked at you and Danneel and I just got it, you know? No more point in hoping. You two were serious. You were going to get married. She was perfect for you and I was just your big dorky co-star.” Jay looks over at Jensen and smiles sardonically. “I figured there goes my one shot at getting what I want, so I might as well try to be normal. Why risk my career with a man when I wasn’t really gonna be content no matter who I ended up with, boy or girl?”

“That was a stupid thing to think,” Jensen tells her.

“Is exactly what Sandy said,” Jay replies with a grin. “Anyway, I did try. And I loved Genevieve and I love my son to death, but I never should have dragged her into it. I'm not proud, but there it is.”

Jensen nods. He looks down at his hands. He’d liked Genevieve; he hates the thought that he brought her pain, however indirectly. He wishes—not for the first time this week—that he’d figured things out a decade sooner. “That why you never warmed to Danneel?”

Jared had never been anything but civil to her, but Jensen was stumped for a long time over the fact that they hadn’t ever gotten close. He was so warm back then, so quick to be anyone’s friend.

“She was so gorgeous,” Jay says. “And fun and warm. She was everything you needed, and I’m just a big clumsy mix up in a dress at the best of times.” Jay frowns and turns to watch Sadie as the dog wanders a few feet away, sniffing at a pile of sticks. “All I ever wanted was to be your girl. How was I supposed to like her?”

Jensen wonders briefly if that has anything to do with Anita's red hair, but he's not cruel enough to ask. He doesn't know what else to say, so he takes one of her hands in his and examines her bright yellow nails. They must match the halter top she has on under the coat, and Jensen can’t help grinning despite the conversation they're having. A part of him still finds it surreal that Jared changes into a woman sometimes, but this is such a puzzlingly feminine thing to do that it brings it home just how complete the transformation is. He’s never understood where women find time to coordinate nail polish; he doesn't think any man ever could.

“You’re not a mix up,” he tells her for what feels like the hundredth time. “I wish you’d stop saying things like that.”

“I’m not…” She brings the hand Jensen isn’t inspecting up to her mouth and passes her fingers over her lips. “I know I’m not unattractive. As a man. But I’m so…so _bulky_. I just want to be pretty. I’ve always wanted to be pretty. Don’t get mad, because I know you hate hearing shit like this, but I used to be a little jealous of you.” Her eyes dart over Jensen’s face. “No offence, but so goddamn pretty.”

“Well, there’s some irony,” Jensen mutters. “I always wanted to be built like you.”

Jay smiles coyly. “At least I didn’t get old as fast as you did.”

“You’re an asshole,” Jensen answers, tugging her hair just enough to annoy her.

“I’ve always been an asshole,” she answers, standing up. "Let's head back. I'm freezing my tits off."

“I did try to warn you,” he says, taking her hand as he walks. He’s never held hands with someone like this, someone taller than him, not since he was a kid at least. It feels awkward and a little uncomfortable, but the way Jay smiles when their fingers tangle is more than enough to make up for it.

“So, not that I don’t appreciate playing catch-up,” Jensen says as they head back toward Jay’s house, “but this didn’t really feel like a date.”

“Hmm,” she says, and Jensen decides to take it as her way of agreeing with him.

“We should go out to dinner,” he continues. “We should go to Morton’s. Haven’t had a decent steak since the last time I was in Texas.”

“They cook for skinny people in L.A., chubs,” Jay says, patting Jensen’s stomach playfully.

“We don’t all cheat and wear corsets,” Jensen replies, grinning.

She makes a sour face. “It’s not cheating, and I’m not even wearing one now.”

“Tell it to the cops,” Jensen says. He stops just before they leave the park and looks up at her. “So Morton’s?”

“People will recognize us there. Both of us.”

Jensen shrugs. “I’m supposed to care because?”

“Jen, you don’t have to pretend to be more okay with this than you are. I know it’s only been a week for you. We can slow down.”

Jensen rises a few inches, cupping her neck and kissing her hard right there in the middle of the path. Jay looks a little shocked and a whole lot breathless when he pulls away.

“I don’t care who sees me with you. Hell, I want them to see me with you. You’re beautiful, everyone should see you.”

“Jensen,” she says brokenly, bringing her fingers up to her lips. She looks around, as if to confirm that he did, in fact, just kiss her in the middle of a busy park. “I don’t believe this is real.”

“I don’t believe you haven’t agreed to go out with me yet,” he replies.

She laughs quietly, links their arms, and keeps walking. “Okay, but I need time to change. This outfit is not date night appropriate.”

Jensen’s pretty sure they’ve been to Morton’s in t shirts and jeans—occasionally covered in grave dirt after a day as Sam and Dean Winchester—enough times that no one will care. But he just lets out a put-upon sigh and mutters, “Women.”

Her ankle is pressed tight against Jensen's under the table. This is nothing new, not unfamiliar or scary, despite the worry that had her stopping every five minutes on the way here, asking Jensen if he was sure he wanted to do this.

Morton's in Vancouver on a Monday night, Jared and Jensen across from each other, too tired to talk as they dig into their steaks. Jensen knows the blood will spill out and pool on Jay's plate before she cuts into it; he's watched it happen a thousand times before. Even the contact, their feet tangled together, possessive and protective and warm, that's not something she didn't do before. Jensen just didn't think to question it.

The only way this varies from the other times is that this version of Jared is wearing a tight black dress, a shawl wrapped around her impossibly broad shoulders, and her smile is bathed in bright red lipstick as she steals Jensen's wine cup to compare it to her own. Jensen thought it would be strange, that maybe he'd have to convince himself he was okay with this as much as Jay, but it's not. It's them. It's what he's been missing for three years, with the added bonus of knowing he'll be tasting that lipstick before the night is up.

"Spain," she says, turning her head from one side to the other and making a pensive face, "Ribera del Duero, to be more precise. A little darker than I prefer it, but still pretty excellent."

"You know that makes you a wino, right?" Jensen says. "Normal people can't do that."

Jay glares as she sets his glass back down in front of him. "Those grapes don't grow just anywhere. It's actually a very distinctive taste."

"Alright, lushy, whatever you say."

"Oh, excuse me if I know what I'm putting in my mouth, Mr. I'll-Drink-Anything-You-Want-to-Bring-Me."

"First of all, I asked for a recommendation. I figure he's been working here long enough to know a thing or two." Jay makes a noise, and Jensen powers on, "And, by the way, I've seen you eat Cheetos out of a couch because Misha dared you. Don't try to act classy with me."

"It was a triple-dog-dare, Jensen," she says very seriously before she ducks her head and starts cracking up. "Whatever. I like wine. Wine is important to me. And you're lucky the waiter brought you something decent, because I would call the whole thing off if our wine taste was not compatible."

Jensen kicks her under the table with his free foot, and she pouts. "That's no way to treat a lady. I know your mama taught you better."

"Alright, alright. We got the wine out of the way. Give me some of that steak."

"Did you forget to say please?"

Jensen reaches out and spears Jay's filet with his fork, and Jay makes a horrified face before jabbing her own fork into it to hold it down. "I'll cut you a piece," she says, laughing. "I'll cut you a piece. Stop reaching over the table. You're gonna start a goddamn fire!"

Jensen eyes the candle in the middle of the table and relents when he realizes it's about half an inch from his sleeve. "I'll give you some of mine," he offers.

"As if I want to eat that charcoal," she mutters to herself as she cuts. "See, this is how it goes. You order your steak medium and then when you realize how glorious my rare is, you want to steal it all. It's just not fair."

Jensen ignores her bitching, holding his hand out for the fork, but Jay smiles wickedly, leaning in as she extends the bite out toward Jensen. He takes the hint, closes his eyes and lets her feed it to him. He makes a soft moaning noise as he bites into it, just to really fuck with her.

She's watching him with dark eyes when he opens his and as he chews, she doesn't take her gaze off his mouth.

"That's good," he says, licking his lips as he pulls away. "What are you staring at?"

"Got such a pretty mouth, Jensen," she says hotly. "God, I can't believe I get to say that. You don’t know how many times I've wanted to tell you that."

"So why didn't you?" he asks before shoveling mashed potatoes into his allegedly pretty mouth.

Jay laughs. "Why didn't I tell you your mouth gets me all hot and bothered?"

"No, smartass," he replies once he's swallowed. "Why didn't you tell me how you felt? Before Danneel and Genevieve. Why didn't you just tell me? Even if I didn't feel the same way, you know I wouldn't have treated you differently. I could have tried to help. Who knows, maybe I would have figured my own shit out and we could have had this all the way back then."

To be fair, Jensen doesn't think he would have. Not when it took three years of heartache and Jay dressed up all pretty and spelling it out for him to even begin to understand it now. But he hates that Jared kept this from him, that all the best years of Jensen's life he was hurting Jared as much as Jared was comforting him. He'd like to think he would have at least figured out a way to let Jared down easy so he could live his goddamn life.

She looks down at her plate, her hair falling over her eyes and blocking her face so Jensen can't read it. "You know, the funny thing is I did tell you. I tried to tell you lots of times. Hell, even after you and Danneel got together. Even after I started with Genevieve. I dropped all the hints I could get away with."

Jensen's eyebrows draw together. He remembers Jared making jokes about them, when the fans were particularly aggressive and Jared had teased that they should just give in already, or when they had shared a night on the patio sipping beers and Jared had playfully suggested they might as well make out. "But those were jokes," Jensen says. "You were joking."

Jay bites her lip, then frowns slightly. "I let you think they were jokes. Jensen, you would have heard how serious I was if you'd wanted to. You never did. What was I supposed to do, push it? I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. I couldn't imagine losing you."

"You lost me anyway," he says, trying not to sound too accusing.

"Yes," she says sadly.

Jensen reaches across the table, takes her hand before she can start eating again and holds it. "But you got me back."

"I've got you," she says, lifting her head. Her eyes are bright now, wide and sparkling—that damn face she used to make when Sam Winchester was being sincere. Jensen never had to act to know why Dean found that look so impossible. "I can't believe I've got you. I'd finally given up."

"How can I make you believe?" Jensen asks, bringing her hand up to his lips and pressing a kiss to the back of three fingers. "I want you to trust me, Jay."

"I trust you. I do. It's…I don't think you can understand, Jen."

"I can try," he offers.

She shakes her head but lets Jensen keep her hand. "How long were you in love with Danneel before she and Riley broke up? A couple of months? A year maybe? I loved you so much when we were doing the show that I couldn't think of anyone else. And I knew I would never, ever get you."

Jensen stays quiet. He'd had a pretty serious crush on Danneel, sure, even experienced a healthy dose of guilt for wanting his friend's girl a few times. But it wasn't anything like what Jared's describing.

"Ten years, Jensen. Ten years," she looks down at their hands, resting together on the tabletop, and gives them a sad smile, "I spent nearly every minute of them by your side. And everyone would joke back then, you remember how they'd joke. Like we were meant to be or already together, like it was inevitable and we were crazy for trying to pretend otherwise. And I knew. At least the better part of me knew how untrue that was. But goddamn if there wasn't a piece of me that hoped. Just a sliver, but I couldn't ever squash it. I thought, if I loved you so much, you'd have to love me back someday. It would have to happen someday. One person couldn't love so much and not—"

She pulls her hand back from Jensen's to cover her mouth as if she's trying to choke something down and after a few seconds finally manages, "And then you married her. The show ended. I let you go, because I couldn't be happy for you anymore and I hated myself for it."

"Jay," Jensen says softly, bending over the table to cup her face and turn it toward him. "Jay."

"I'm sorry," she says, laughing at herself as she wipes at her eyes, careful not to smudge her makeup. "I told myself I'd be cool and collected and here I am ruining dinner."

"You're not ruining dinner, babe," Jensen says. She rolls her eyes and puffs out a dismissive breath, so Jensen smiles and adds, "Remember the time you decided to burp the alphabet?"

Jay gives a hiccup of a laugh and nods.

"Well, if that couldn't ruin this steak, what can?"

"Fair," she says. She takes a long, steadying breath and then lets it out slowly. "I guess what I was trying to say is just…this is new to you, Jensen. And I get that. But I've had this dream so many times and woken up. I don't know when, if ever, I'll stop anticipating it."

He sits back and nods curtly, thinking it over. Maybe he can't understand, but he can do his best to work with it. "That's okay," he says. "I'll be right here when you wake up. In the meantime—"

The waiter appears at their side to take their plates and offers a dessert menu.

Jay looks from him to Jensen and grins wickedly. "In the meantime, cake?"

Jensen's a red-blooded male. He's not about to turn down a chance to watch her lips curve into satisfied moans as the chocolate slides down her throat.

The drive home is a steady exchange of bad jokes and remember-whens, Jensen's hand resting easily on Jay's warm thigh. It's not until he pulls up in her driveway that he remembers this isn't going to be another night of beers and bad TV. Jensen can't just follow Jared in and pass out on his couch, big brown dogs draped on top of him for blankets.

"So," he says, looking from Jay to the door and back again. "Good night?"

"Don't even," she says, climbing halfway into Jensen's lap to grab his face and pull it toward her.

The kiss is almost as big as she is, lips swooping down onto his before he can even open up for it. He doesn't take long to catch on though, one hand tangling in her hair, the other settling on the small of her back, trying to pull her in. He's gonna mess up those nice curls he's been admiring all day, but it's hard to care when she's grinding against him.

"Jensen," she gasps against his mouth, turning her face to try and get a better angle. He grins, moving his whole body so it faces her, trying to make room. They'll never fit comfortably—she's larger than life.

His hand travels down, out of her hair, and slides onto her chest. He squeezes, the fabric under her dress supplying more than enough to keep his hands full, and he's getting so turned on he feels as much like a teenager as he probably looks, making out desperately in the front seat of his car.

"Jay," he whispers, pushing back to break the kiss. "Do you, uh, have anywhere to be tomorrow?"

She takes his hand in hers and presses it firmly against her breast again before leaning in and sucking lightly on his ear. "I don't have work," she tells him. "I don't have work this whole week. Stay the whole week if you want. Cancel your flight for all I care. Jensen, please. Come home."

He wants to tell her home is right here, close quarters with her just like old times, but he doesn't have to—she gets it. Home, the one place he can still belong, is right there through those doors, in the house they used to share together. She doesn't ask him back to her place. She's telling him to come home.

Jensen's got no reason or desire to turn that down.

As soon as he switches the car off and nods, she's out and on her way up the path so fast that all she looks like to Jensen is a blur. He gets out pretty quickly himself, following her like she's got her own gravity, which she probably does, come to think of it.

By the time he reaches the door, she's still forcing her key in and trying to open it. Jensen does his best to wrap his arms around her and push up to her back. The coat she's wearing isn't as big as the one she'd had on at the park, but it's enough of an obstacle, along with the sheer size of her, that Jensen can just hardly get his mouth on her neck.

"Jensen," she whines as she fights with the lock. "Trying to concentrate."

He ignores the complaint, keeps his mouth attached to her skin until finally she calls out with victory, the hand with the keys flying up into the air like the Cowboys just won the Super Bowl, and the door falls open, pulling them both in with it.

Sadie is immediately there to greet them, her head bumping against their legs excitedly. Jay bends low to pet her quickly, then shoos her with an apology as she straightens and takes Jensen's hand, as if he needs to be led to her bedroom.

He kisses her once they're inside with the door closed and turns her toward the bed. She returns it easily enough, her hands gripping the sides of Jensen's face tightly, but she stops before he can push her onto the mattress.

Which is totally okay with Jensen. Jensen can be a gentleman and wait until she's ready. It's not like he'll die of blue balls. Probably.

"Baby," he says, trying to drag her back in, get her mouth on his again. "What's wrong?"

"Don't worry," she says, fingers slipping down under Jensen's shirt and pushing it up and off. "Not gonna say no to you," she promises. "Never intend to say no to you again."

Jensen lets her break the kiss long enough to lose the clothes, but when he reaches out to remove her dress, she stops him.

"You stay here," she says, pressing a quick kiss against his mouth and taking a step back. She points to her bathroom and gives him an apologetic smile. "I'll be right back, okay? Don't have anything on when I return."

Jensen nods, watching her go reluctantly, and then undoes his jeans. He feels stupid waiting in the room, alone and naked, so he keeps his boxers on and sits at the foot of the bed, his face propped on his chin as he waits. He doesn't even know what he's waiting for, but it takes so long that he starts to worry she's climbed out of the bathroom window just to get away from him.

And then the door swings open. Jay's leaning in the archway, and Jensen's mouth goes dry as his eyes travel slowly down the length of her. She's let her hair down now, and it frames her face wildly. Messy, yes, from Jensen putting his hands all over it, but it's sexy as hell.

He's seen some pretty impressive lingerie, but that's not what she's wearing, and whatever disappointment he might have felt if told he wasn't gonna get to see her naked dissolves in an instant. She's got a bright red corset on, shaping her into an almost dainty, ladylike silhouette, and her satin underwear matches it perfectly. Jensen's dick is stirring to life at a truly alarming rate.

"Jesus," he mutters, wondering if she's had this on all night under that slinky black dress she wore to the restaurant.

His eyes keep roving. It feels like ten minutes before he's taken in every inch of her long, long legs, and propping her up, making them look even better than they would on their own, she's still wearing the big, spiky red heels she'd had on earlier.

Jensen kind of hopes she doesn't plan to take them off.

"Jay," he says in awe.

She ducks her head, looking down at herself. "Do I…I don't look stupid, right?"

"No," he tells her. "God, no."

Jensen stands and is at her side in two quick strides. She smells lightly of flowers, some girly perfume Jensen would have teased Jared about had he found it in his friend's bathroom three years ago. Now it envelopes him, wrapping Jensen up in this brand new version of Jared, in Jay, and the sweet promises she brings.

He stares a little longer, brings his hands up maybe a bit too presumptuously to grab her tight ass. He wants to claim it, all of her really, and he can't keep away a second longer. She groans, and Jensen backs her up into the wall, trying his best to kiss her. She's too damn tall with those heels on; he feels ridiculous and shrimpy and so goddamn unworthy.

She laughs, just like Jared would, and damned if that doesn't make Jensen's heart ache in the best way possible. "Jensen," she murmurs as she ducks down enough to catch his mouth. One of her fingers hooks in the elastic of his boxers, and she tugs. "I thought I told you to be naked."

Her voice is a dark drawl now. Jensen's heard it before, learned to associate it with Jared when he's tired or drunk. Or horny, apparently.

"Not willing to work for it?" he teases, his mouth still straining up toward hers, and he feels her answering smile as she pushes his boxers and drops them.

They slide down his legs, and Jensen raises each foot, kicking free. He backs up, pulling her with him toward the bed, and she nearly stumbles on her heels. "Whoa, careful there," she says, but she's laughing. "Broken legs are not gonna get anyone laid faster."

He sits on the mattress, pulling her down with him, and she follows as if his movements are her own. He kisses her once they're both sitting, mostly just because he can finally reach. "Jay."

"Mmm," she says, her lips pursing out as she pulls away.

Jensen gets a hand in her hair, about to draw her in for another kiss, but she holds him right where he is and begins to lie back, her head resting on the pillows and her long body unfolding on the bed. Jensen moves with her once he gets what she's trying to do, so he's hovering over her, holding himself up with one hand and still tangling his fingers in her hair with the other.

They kiss, but when Jensen tries to slide between her legs, she stops him with a hand over his heart.

"Wait," she says.

Jensen feels his breath catch in anticipation. "What's wrong, darlin'?"

She shakes her head. "Nothing," she says, keeping her eyes on Jensen's until they dip down, first to his chest, then lower and lower. "Just wanna look at you for a moment. Never thought I'd get to see you like this."

He lets her look as much as she wants until finally she nods, licking her lips. She turns her face away from him for only a moment, opening her nightstand drawer to pull out a bottle of lube and a condom. She hands the condom to Jensen but keeps the lube in a tight grip.

"I have to…" She looks down at the bottle, pointedly away from Jensen. "I'm not loose enough for you yet. It's okay if you don't want to do this, Jensen. I can do it myself, if you don't want to touch—"

Jensen snatches the bottle out of her hand and curls a finger under her chin, forcing her to look up at him. He leans in and kisses her quickly, then lets his voice grow heavy with intent as he presses his lips to her ear. "Love getting my girls ready," he says. "Fucking love making 'em beg for my dick. You're not any different, Jay. I'm gonna make you cry for it."

She groans, hips bucking up, and Jensen swallows, wanting to believe it'll be that easy. It's not any different, maybe, only he wouldn't know. He's never done this before and he's a little terrified.

The bottle cap opens with a quiet click as he flicks it, and he sits back on his knees to get a better view of her. Now that she's lying down in front of him, now that he can see her right up close, the illusion's not quite as complete as it had been before. She's completely hard, cock a thick line through the satin, head sticking out from the top of her panties. It's tenting the fabric, and her balls spill out from the sides where the underwear can't hold her in.

"Jensen," she says softly. "Don't look."

He shakes his head. It's…okay, it's a lot more difference than he'd prepared himself for, but it's not entirely unattractive, either. She's so fucking hard for him. He never thought that could turn him on, but seeing the effect he's having—seeing how much she wants him—it's one of the most filthy, erotic, beautiful things he thinks he's ever witnessed.

Jensen reaches out, wanting to stroke the length of her through the silky fabric and feel just how desperate she is. But she catches his wrist before he can, holds on so tight it snaps him right back into the present. Reminds him of who it is he's fucking and why they're so much stronger than him.

"Jay," he says. "Baby, I don't mind. I want—"

"No," she says. "Please. Just pretend it's not there. Please, Jen."

He looks up at her, sees a sad look in her eyes and pulls his hand back. He's selfish and he's stupid and he's not really equipped to be with a woman like this. He thought she was trying to keep him from touching for his sake, that she'd assumed he didn't want it. It never occurred to him that she doesn't want it. That part of her won't help her feel like his girl, no matter how much attention he wants to give it.

With a nod to let her know he understands, or at least thinks he understands, he squeezes some lube out onto his fingers and rubs it between them. She spreads herself wider, which makes his dick get wet with precome, because she easily has the best legs of anyone he's ever fucked—long, tan, thickly muscled skin, wantonly arranged to make room for him.

Jensen puts his dry hand on the inside of her thigh to make sure she's as open as she'll go, and his blood pumps wildly through him once he touches her smooth skin. He knew she shaved—obviously she shaves, not just her legs but her chest and arm pits and the neat little triangle of hair he saw poking out over her cock, too. But feeling it is somehow different than just knowing or seeing it. This, more than kissing her or touching her or talking about it, brings it home how real this is, not just for him but for Jared, too.

The panties have a slit in them, which he hadn't realized until now. It's not like he didn't know she got all dressed up for him to fuck her, but something about that, about the intent behind crotchless panties, makes him worry he's gonna come before he even gets a chance.

"Jesus, Jay," he says. "Are you—?"

"Nope," she replies, grinning wide. "Not Jesus. Try again."

He ignores her smartass comment, mostly because his brain isn't really back up to speed just yet. "You're gonna kill me," he says, moving forward and sliding his fingers through the slit.

She reaches down, guiding him to her hole, and Jensen presses two wet fingers into her. It's tight but it gives way to him easier than he would have expected if he'd ever stopped to expect this. "You good?" he asks her.

She nods, giving him a small smile and shifting her body around him. "Go on, Jensen."

He nods, slowly moving his fingers in as deep as they'll go and back out. He's got decades of experience making girls feel good; he's only now realizing that's not going to help him here. He fucks in again, changing the angle a little, hoping he'll find something she likes. It takes a few more tries before finally she makes a quiet, satisfied sound, and Jensen repeats his movement exactly to pull it out again.

She's not quite crying yet, but her mouth slips up into a dopey, content smile, and Jensen presses harder, scissoring his fingers to hit that spot she likes. It makes her start moaning, and he takes some hope from that.

"That good?" he asks.

"Yeah, Jen," she tells him, opening her eyes and blinking hazily before she can look him in the eye. "God, so good. So good. Want more."

He nods, memorizing the spot she likes before pulling his fingers out and pushing a third in. That makes her finally gasp and writhe on him, her cries growing a little louder. Jensen reaches up with his thumb, pushing where her clit would be, hoping he'll brush her balls with enough friction to feel good without breaking the illusion.

To his relief, she lets out a long, keening sound, and Jensen leans in closer as he finger fucks her. "Got such a tight little pussy, Jay. Wanna put my dick in there, feel how wet you are for me. So wet."

She nods enthusiastically, but, Jensen is a little smug to notice, she can't make the words to answer him. He keeps circling his thumb on her, whispers filthy things about her clit and how much he wants to taste it until finally she sits up, hands on his bicep. "Jensen, you gotta fuck me. Please, you gotta fuck me now."

He takes his hand back and wipes it off on the sheets, and she begins to turn over. "If you do it from behind, it'll be easier for you to pretend I'm a real woman."

Jensen stops her. "Wanna see you," he tells her. "Jay, come on. Let me see you."

Her smile is unsure, but soft and honest all the same. "If you really want that."

He nods, putting his mouth on her neck and sucking at her as he puts the condom on and slicks his cock up for her. She holds the underwear open for him, just enough for him to see her cunt so he can slide into it.

Tight was an understatement. Pushing in isn't hard—she's relaxed and ready to receive him—but he thinks he might be stuck once he's breached her. His breath all leaves him in one long curse, and she laughs, pulling him in and holding him there.

"Do I feel good, Jensen?"

Jensen nods, overwhelmed by how incredible it is. "You've got the tightest cunt I've ever fucked," he tells her, pulling out to test it and sliding back in.

"That's sweet," she jokes. "You missed the call on being a poet."

He jerks forward hard, hoping to hit her sweet spot, because she should not be coherent enough to be snarky when he's balls deep inside of her. She makes a surprised sound, half a laugh and half a groan, and then her arms and legs are wrapped around him, encouraging him to do it again.

Her shoes dig into his ass, big big heels hurting like a motherfucker, and he can't help thrusting and thrusting because he's never had a girl willing to do something that kinky, and here she is, laying it all out for him their first time. His ass is gonna be sore and bruised for a week, and he can't help thinking nothing's ever felt as good as this pain.

"God, Jensen. So big," she says, panting as he moves inside her. "Such a big, strong man. Always loved that about you. Always loved how strong you are."

He feels his face flush, his blood getting so hot under the skin it's almost unbearable. He knows, as far as dirty talk goes, she's not saying anything particularly special. But she sounds like she believes it, sounds so convinced she makes Jensen believe it. It's been so long since he's felt whole.

He looks down at her, hoping to see something in her face that'll convince him. Her eyes move up to his immediately, her mouth caught open as the breath punches out of her. Her expression is needy, so so damn needy. The last woman who needed him like this—he wasn't enough. But all Jay needs is to know he wants her. Even Jensen can't screw that up.

"You're gorgeous," he tells her, pulling back so he can really catch her gaze. He holds himself up, one hand planted on the mattress on either side of her face, and moves slowly, slow enough to be sure she can focus on what he's saying. "So gorgeous, Jay. Wanna see you just like this. Wanna keep you all to myself. Forever. Never gonna let anyone else have you, baby."

She makes a sound like he's hurting her, and he smiles, bending his arms so that his face comes down to kiss hers. He'll hurt her just like this, every night for the rest of his goddamn life. She shudders, returning the kiss with so much energy that one of her legs slips lazily to the mattress and lies there pliant while the other is still holding him tight.

One hand on each of her strong thighs, Jensen begins to roll his hips into her in earnest, almost losing control. Unable to focus on if he's doing what she wants him to, but she's not exactly being quiet about whether it's good for her or not.

Most of what she's saying, voice broken and needy, is his name. He moves down to get his lips against hers so he can taste some of that praise, and reaches up with one hand to squeeze her breast while he's at it.

"Jensen," she tells him. "Jensen, turn me over. Please. Turn me over."

"Told you I wanna see you," he says.

She shakes her head. "Please. Jen. Need relief. Need to come. Please."

Jensen wants to punch himself. He's gotten it wrong again. He pulls out and lets her reposition herself, diving back in immediately. He slaps his hand hard on the meat of her ass, making her yelp out in surprise as he renews his grip on her and pulls her pussy back up to meet him.

She works back against him now, fucking down hard with him so that her hips press against the bed. Jensen finally gets what she's doing, how she plans to come without either of them touching her cock, so he shoves her down, screwing roughly into her as she humps the mattress desperately.

"Oh god, right there," she says. "Right fucking—love you there. Love your cock. Oh god, Jensen. I love it. I love it. Jensen. I—" He buries his face in her neck as he fucks her, feeling his orgasm coming quick, and she shouts every time he slides in. "I love—I love you, Jensen."

His name that last time seems to go on forever, and he loses himself in it. She's coming, he knows it without having to reach around to feel it, so he manfully resists the urge, grabbing the headboard instead and shoving into her with all the strength he's got left. It's not long, not long at all, before his balls are drawing up tight and then he's spilling come with a low groan.

He lets himself fall down on top of her, too overwhelmed by the sudden rush of pleasure to be considerate. He continues with a few lazy thrusts as his aftershocks keep him coming in small surges, until he's got nothing left in him.

He's about to pull out, but she reaches back, stopping him.

"Stay," she says. "Just lie there like that a little bit longer. Just want to hold you there a little longer."

He laughs, pressing a few kisses over the wide expanse of her shoulders. "Not gonna be ready to go again anytime soon, if that's what you're trying to hint at."

"Are you crazy?" Jay asks. "I am very thoroughly fucked for one night, thank you."

They both laugh, and then they lie like that, quiet and peaceful, until she squeezes his arm to let him know he can move, and Jensen's now completely soft cock slides out with ease. He almost doesn't want to leave, the hot clench of her so damn inviting he thinks he could live inside her, but it's worth it to watch her turn over and see the smile on her face.

"Hi," he says, just to say something, his pinky and forefinger brushing the sweaty hair away from her face. Her make-up is all over and her hair is a sexed up mess, but those big teeth are so bright he feels like he may go blind looking at them directly.

"Hey, gorgeous," she says back.

Jensen catches his lip between his teeth. "Think that's supposed to be my line."

"God, you're cheesy," she says, sitting up and wiggling her way out of Jensen's arms.

"Where you going?" he asks, trying to catch her and reel her back in.

She evades his grasp, getting up out of bed. He settles for watching her, the way her leg muscles flex as they balance themselves on those heels. He's had worse consolation prizes.

"Hard enough to breathe in a corset when you're not getting fucked," she says, throwing the words over her shoulder. Her walk is an elegant sway, clearly calculated to keep his eyes on her ass. How she can do that in shoes like those after Jensen just fucked her sideways, he'll never know. She's one hell of a woman.

The bathroom light flickers on a second before she disappears into the room, and the door swings shut behind her. Jensen lets himself fall back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. His mind is a little hazy from all the pleasure, and instead of fighting it, he lets himself drift until the light filtering in from the bathroom calls his attention back to reality.

He turns over to face her, elbow propping his head up, and his eyes widen when he sees that she has somehow managed to surprise him yet again.

It's not a sexy nightgown, nothing like the lacey things Danneel favored. It's almost girlish, light purple cotton with small flowers scattered over it. It only reaches mid-thigh, but that probably has more to do with her improbable height and broadness than with any desire to get Jensen to ogle her. She looks adorable more than anything, and the sight of her makes something in Jensen melt.

She walks over to the bed, sitting at the edge. Jensen reaches out for her, one hand settling on her thigh, fingers slipping up her skirt just to feel her warm skin. "You staying?" she asks.

Jensen nearly laughs. It hadn't occurred to him yet that there was another option. "You want me to?"

She doesn't answer him, just digs a big t shirt and some spare boxers out of a drawer and throws them at his head. By the time he's changed and brushed his teeth, she's already in bed under the covers. She's lying almost directly in the middle with her back to the bathroom; Jensen feels a small smile curve on his lips, and he turns the lights off, sliding into the space she made for him. It takes a few minutes to find a comfortable way to hold her, but he doesn't let go once he has it.

Jensen wakes with his face pressed against the soft case of a very, very firm pillow. It takes at least half a minute and the slow, gentle circling of fingers on his back to make him realize that's a big broad chest his head is propped on, and the body wrapped up in the cotton is Jared's.

He rises to his elbows, looking up into his friend's face. Jared, or Jay, is watching him very intensely. Jensen smiles. "You watchin' me sleep?"

He doesn't get an answer except for the same quiet movements of Jared's fingers, until finally Jared gives him the barest hint of a nod. "Still can't believe this is really happening."

"Believe it," he says. Then he rubs a hand over his face, hating that he has to ask, "Jared or Jay?"

The response is a small chuckle. "Haven't even had my coffee yet. How'm I supposed to know?"

That terrifies Jensen, in all honesty. It's been rough enough this last week just trying to reconcile his attraction to Jared with what he thought he knew about himself. He doesn't understand how anyone can be that fluid about their gender and not have a panic attack every moment of the day. But Jared sounds cheerful, like he thrills in the chance to show off just how easy it is for him to slip, and Jensen is happy for him.

He ventures a guess. Jensen thinks it's Jay from her voice. Jay's words are soft and just the slightest bit muted. The inflections are all the same as Jared's, but the loud, boisterous quality Jensen has long associated with his friend isn't there. It's a different kind of comfort: not likely to jolt him out of a bad mood, but guaranteed to curl over him like a tender kiss, promising warmth and safety and acceptance. It's a different kind of love, but, greedy bastard that he is, Jensen needs them both.

"Is that my girl?" he asks, pulling her just a little tighter with the arm he has draped over her chest.

"Yours," she agrees easily. "All yours."

Jensen grins and pushes himself up to kiss her. What meets him is rough, stubbled skin, and Jensen pulls back on instinct. He woke up with a woman who grows stubble overnight, and maybe that shouldn't be surprising him, all things considered, but give him a break, he just woke up and he's new at this.

The shock must be showing on his face, because Jay reaches up to touch her cheek. "Regrets already?"

Her tone and her expression are light enough, but her eyes are miserable, and worse than that, she doesn't look the least bit surprised.

Jensen shakes his head, kissing her again, his fingers stroking her sandpaper-rough skin. "No, sweetheart. No. Just gotta give me a second to adjust."

She nods, lip sticking out like a pouty child, and he laughs at her, kissing deeper. She returns it, making mmm sounds until eventually she shoves him away. "Are you—Jensen, are you sure you want this? It's okay if you change your mind. I know…I know it might be different in practice than—"

"God, you talk a lot," he grumbles, trying to kiss her again.

She pushes him back. "I'm serious. You could have any woman you want. It doesn't make any sense that you would choose me."

"You _are_ the woman I want," he tells her. "You're all the woman I can handle."

"Well," she says quietly, still not letting him near her. "What about…? Some days I won't be, Jensen. Some days I'll just be Jared. Big, goofy, unwanted Jared."

"Please always be Jared," Jensen tells her, sighing as he gives up his pursuit and sinks back into the mattress. "Jared is my best friend. I love Jared. I don't care if you're a girl or a boy or an alien, okay? I love every version of you. You're always wanted."

"You love me?" she asks.

Jensen smiles even though she can't see him. It should seem rushed, he should be hesitant. But this has been building for 13 years, and now that it's finally fallen into place, now that Jensen can see the whole and not just pieces, he can't find a shred of doubt. "I love you." He sits up on one side. "Now will you let me kiss you?"

She does for a while. They make-out without any intent behind it except exploring each other, and Jensen feels sated and cherished by the time they're done.

"Go make me coffee," she demands, shoving him lightly. "I need to shave."

He nods, because coffee sounds pretty fucking sweet right about now. When the brew finishes, he pours a cup for himself and one for Jay, lacing hers with cream and sugar and a drop of vanilla. It's not until he's bringing the mugs back upstairs that he realizes she may not take her coffee the way she did three years ago.

She's stark naked when he finds her, sitting on the edge of the tub with the water running. Jensen leans in the doorway, blatantly staring. There's nothing feminine about her now. Jared's body is a perfect example of masculine form, the kind of build a lot of men would kill for. It seems unkind to Jensen, for her sake, that God made her like that, but as he watches her smooth shaving cream over her legs, he can't find a single thing about her he'd change.

Being feminine must take her a lot more effort than Jensen had considered. It's not just shaving every day, but the attention to outfits and hair styles and nail polish, the voice and the walk that Jay adopts on the days she isn't Jared. That's gotta be exhausting, having to try so hard to be legible, when even Danneel and the super models he's dated had lazy days when they didn't want to shower or change out of pajamas. No one would have questioned their gender, but even with all the work she puts in, she has to fight to be recognized. She constantly has to doubt herself. The fact that she has to sweat for it makes her that much more beautiful to him.

She looks up and catches him admiring her. "Creeper," she says, grinning. She washes the foam off in the stream and makes grabby hands at the coffee Jensen's holding.

He smirks, stepping forward and passing her the cup, then sitting on the tub next to her. He watches her take a drink, maps the way her face relaxes and her eyes get just a bit brighter with the first sip. Maybe he got her order right after all.

"Perfect," she says, blowing before taking another, larger sip. "You are perfect."

Her face is smooth now, and Jensen looks down to see she's already shaved everything else, too. Everything except those goddamn amazing legs.

"You want help?" he asks, stripping the shirt he slept in off over his head and tossing it on the floor next to her nightdress.

"Don't have to do that," she says.

"It'll let you keep your hands free," he says, drawing it out teasingly. "More coffee."

"For coffee." She reaches over and picks her razor up, passing it to Jensen. It's orange and has a flower raised on the handle, and Jensen just shakes his head at it. "If you cut my legs, I will cut you. They're my best feature."

Jensen grins and takes off his boxers, stepping into the tub and kneeling in front of her. He works slowly, mostly because Jay really could kick his ass, so he doesn't want to fuck up. It's a pretty grand task, so much more skin than he's ever had to work with, and something about the intimacy of it, the fact that she trusts him enough to do this as she contentedly goes about drinking her morning Joe, makes him really, really horny.

Being around Jay is like being in high school again.

She sets the cup down on the floor when she finishes, careful only to move her upper body as she does it. Jensen is already working on her second leg by then, and his cock is hard, insistent and aching, making it hard to focus on what he's doing.

But he finishes. He makes it through, rinsing off the top of her thigh, the last place he gets to, and presses a kiss there for good measure. Then he turns his head and finds himself on eyelevel with a half-hard dick.

"You too, huh?" he jokes, rising onto his knees between her legs.

She cups his face and kisses him, letting him press in closer. "God, Jensen," she says. She breaks from his kiss, twisting her body enough to turn the water off, and he keeps his mouth occupied, moving down to suck on her nipple. He feels a few stray hairs she missed around it and laughs, taking the razor and carefully passing it over them.

By the time he looks up at her again, she's giving him a naughty smile. "Stand up for me."

He does it, wondering if she's about to fuck him with that incredibly talented mouth of hers again, but instead she takes him by surprise, leaning forward and pressing her chest together, so when Jensen looks down all he can see is her face, dark eyes trained on him, and a pretty pair of tits.

"Jay," he groans, reaching down to squeeze his cock.

"Do I turn you on?" she asks, holding the position. "You like seeing me like this?"

Jensen nods dumbly, the ache between his legs too urgent to form words.

"Come on me," she begs.

Jensen doesn't really need to be told twice. He strokes himself, imagining sliding his dick between her breasts as he jerks off. It's embarrassing how quickly that has him coming, spilling white all over her chest and hands.

"God, so hot," she gasps, and then she reaches up without pausing to rinse the come off and hauls Jensen down into the tub with her. He settles above her in the bath, hot water wrapping them both, nearly spilling over the edge, and he kisses her desperately as she rubs off on him, chasing her orgasm.

Her bathrobe is big and fuzzy, black with teal dots. She has matching teal slippers. Jensen sits across the table from her, alternating between reading the paper and watching as she happily paints the nails on her right hand a purpleish blue.

"Your pancakes are gonna get cold," he tells her, turning a page.

She gives him a quick, sassy look, then focuses her attention back on her hand. "Don't see you feeding them to me, manservant."

She nods after a few seconds, apparently content with her work, and begins to flap her hands to dry them faster.

"I already made them," he argues.

"Don't be a baby," she says, and then adds with a shit-eating grin, "baby."

"Your hair looks stupid," he tells her, returning to his paper.

Her hair is piled on top of her head, still soaking wet from their shower, and, to be fair, it really does look stupid. "I told you I was gonna worry about it la—"

Jensen feels himself smirking, lowers the entertainment section just enough for Jay to see him.

"Oh, you smart ass," she says, cutting herself off. "You think you're so funny. If my nails weren't wet, I'd throw something at you."

"If, if, if," Jensen chirps.

She's quiet for a little while, and then she says, "Whatcha reading about?"

"Nothing," Jensen lies, folding the paper and setting it aside. "Nothing important."

It's easy to tell from the look on her face that she has his number. "You know you're gonna win, right?"

"No," Jensen says with a shaky laugh. "No way. Not even letting myself hope for it."

"I saw _Chiaroscuro_ five times," she says. "I cried, too. Three times. Manly sniffling the last two."

Jensen gives her a half-smile. "I cried about 80 times making it, and that was just trying to get the actors to show up on time."

She laughs, ducking her head. "I'm serious, Jensen. It was amazing. All I could think the first time I saw it was how proud Kim would have been."

"I'm proud of it," he admits, pausing to give her a thankful smile. "But I'm up against some pretty experienced guys. I just don't want to get my hopes up."

"Mmhmm," Jay says. "And what did the article say?"

"Said my chances were good but Soderbergh's are better." Jensen laughs nervously. "Having a hard time not agreeing."

"That movie sucked," Jay says, forcefully. "There weren't even any male strippers in it. Anyway, he already has his Oscar."

" _Between Friends_ did not suck," Jensen replies. "And I'm pretty sure you're allowed to win more than once."

"Bah." Jay shakes her head, taking a bite from one of her pancakes. "You're gonna win it."

"I shouldn't even be worrying about it. Should be trying to find a lead for _Double Negatives_ since my first choice wants no part of it."

"Jensen," Jay whines, kicking him under the table.

Jensen laughs, but he can't help asking, "Don't imagine anything that's happened in the last 24 hours might have changed your mind?"

Jay bites her lip, looking down at the table. "I don't know, Jen. I killed my career for a reason."

"I knew it!" Jensen feels stupidly pleased with himself. Jared's career, the swan dive it took after those three big movies he made in the year following Supernatural, makes no damn sense unless he meant for it to flop. "Why the hell would you do that?"

"It's not obvious?" Jay asks.

"No, it makes no damn sense."

She raises her eyebrow. "I'm a closeted gender-flopping drag queen who fucks men. You really can't imagine why I didn't want the spotlight on me anymore?"

"Fair enough." Jensen laces his fingers together. "Have you ever thought about coming out?"

"Of course I have," Jay answers. She shakes her head. "It's not anyone's business."

"But don't you miss acting?" Jensen asks. "You loved it so much."

"Yeah," she says gloomily. "I miss it. The show I'm on now, on the rare occasion they even schedule me, it's the kind of thing you can phone in. I'd love to do something like _Double Negatives_ , but I don't want to be famous again. I don't want to have to do that fake Hollywood crap with the parade of women and the constant hiding. Worrying someone will figure me out and never getting to be Anita." She shakes her head. "I may not be much up here, but at least I'm myself."

"You can be in my movie and still be yourself," Jensen tells her. "I mean, it's okay that you don't want to be. I'm not trying to push you. But I want you to know that."

"It'll put me back on the map. I don't want to be on the map. I want to be a forgotten has-been no one recognizes when I walk my dog in a skirt."

"I have to go home, you know," Jensen tells her, feeling his heart sink. He hadn't even stopped to consider that they might be incompatible for reasons that have nothing to do with gender or sexual preference. Those were supposed to be the hard parts. "L.A. is my home, Jay. And I'm willing to live here when I'm not working, you know I love this house, but I'm not gonna kill my career. I've busted my ass the last three years—it's all I've had since Danneel left."

"God, no, Jensen. Honey. I would _never_ ask you to do that." She reaches out and strokes his cheek. "You're already so good, and you're growing so much. This is what you're meant to be doing. I don't want to take that away from you."

"I wanna be with you, but…I don't wanna bring attention to you by accident. I don't really see a way to guarantee that won't happen."

Her eyes widen with hurt, but Jensen squeezes both of her hands in his, making her look up at him. "Hey, I'm not trying to end this. I'm trying to lay out our problems so we can think of ways around them."

"You have too many problems for that," she teases.

"Says the guy in a dress," Jensen replies.

She makes an indignant sound and whacks Jensen with his own newspaper. He probably deserved that, so he allows it.

"I can do the movie," she says after a long, quiet time.

Jensen frowns. "Jay, I told you you don't have—"

"Shut up and let me finish," she tells him. "If I do the movie, I get to do what I love while you get to do what you love, and then we have at least a couple of months where we can be together all we want and no one will think it's suspicious, right?"

Jensen nods, trying not to let himself get too excited.

"And we can see what we figure out after that," she finishes. "How's that sound?"

"You'll do my movie?" He asks. "Can I get that in writing? Can I bring a lawyer in with a contract right now?"

"Not with my hair like this," she replies.

Jensen stands, too ecstatic to stay seated. "You'll do my movie?"

"Do you speak English?"

He kneels at her feet and tries to scoop her up, out of the chair and into his arms. All that happens is they end up on the floor, the chair overturned next to them, laughing so hard it hurts more than the fall did.

It's not that Jensen's gotten clingy, it's just that everything reminds him of Jared all of a sudden. He's been back in L.A. for two days and so far every fashionista, dog, flashy car, building, or goddamn palm tree has, through some incredibly convoluted train of thought, led back to Jared. It's, oh, a smidgen distracting. In Vancouver, a city that will always belong to Jared as far as Jensen is concerned, where some version of his friend was constantly at his side, it at least made sense. Now not so much.

The phone rings in his ear as he walks down Santa Monica Boulevard, trying to keep his head down so no one spots him. His whole body clenches up calling Jared, even now, that tiny fear that he's never going to get an answer taking hold no matter how much Jensen tries to reason it away.

"Hello?" His muscles all relax without him even telling them to when he hears Jared's voice instead of a now too-familiar voicemail message.

"Jared?"

There's a laugh on the other line. Jensen can't tell if it belongs to Jared or Jay. "Well, don't sound so surprised. You did dial my number."

"Yeah," Jensen says, still trying to figure out who he's talking to. It's been driving him crazy, having to guess over the phone. "Hey, baby. How you doin'?"

"Doing pretty well, I'd say," Jared replies cheerfully. Definitely Jared. "I'm here with this _really_ hot guy."

"Oh, yeah?" Jensen asks. "He hotter than me?"

There's a speculative noise from the other end of the phone line, and then Jared says, "Well, you're like a six. And he's like an eight-point-five."

"Ouch. It's that point-five that's gonna kill me, isn't it?"

Jared laughs heartily. "Don't worry," he tells Jensen. "You're not in trouble. It's just Carlos. And, anyway, he's got that little blond boy toy he won't admit he's in love with, I might as well not exist."

In the background, Jensen can hear a high-pitched string of what he feels safe assuming are all curse words in Spanish. Nobody in Vancouver sounds particularly sober.

"Hey, is this a bad time?" Jensen asks. "Should I call you back tomorrow?"

"No, never a bad time for you," Jared replies. "Hold on, let me step out so this Chihuahua stops yapping at me."

"Bitch, I am a jaguar," Jensen hears Carlos announce. "A majestic, cute-outfit-wearing…"

Jensen doesn't catch the rest of it as Jared seems to get farther from the noise, but he hears Jared's chuckling and the click of a door as it closes behind him, shutting out the chaos. "Okay, outside," Jared says. "What can I do for you?"

"You didn't have to leave, you know." Jensen frowns down at the floor as he walks. "I don't really have anything useful to say. Wanted to hear your voice."

"You're getting soft," Jared teases.

"I miss you," he persists.

He can hear the smile in Jared's voice when he replies. "Me too, Jen."

There's a long quiet between them, and Jensen licks his lips nervously. Being in L.A. has really put some things in perspective for him. He's been coming to a lot of decisions, and any doubts he might have had about his feelings for Jared and whether he was ready to jump into a serious relationship have completely dissolved in the crush of missing Jared and Jay so much he can hardly pay attention to his work.

So it's not that he doesn't have anything to say keeping him silent, it's that he has too much, and he doesn’t think these are things to be said over the phone. He doesn't know how the hell they _should_ be said, if any of it should be said at all, but he's pretty clear that the phone is a bad choice. So he coughs just to fill the silence and then says, "I guess calling you is pointless when neither of us is in the right circumstances for phone sex."

He's mostly joking. That's not what he needs right now, but Jay's dirty mouth _has_ been driving him wild since he got to California. It's almost a shame; Jensen vows to call later, when he's back in his hotel, in the hopes he can catch Jared drunk and frisky instead of passed out.

"Shit, Jensen, you sure know how to make a girl feel special. And by special, I mean cheap."

"Nah, I'd pay good money for you," he jokes.

"Speaking of you paying me…" Jared's voice becomes teasing as he moves on to the next subject. "How're the movie talks going?"

"Pretty good," Jensen says. "Your agent looked like he was gonna cry for joy as we drew up the papers."

Jared laughs. "I bet."

"Looking at a few actresses to put opposite you. All I'll say is I'm real glad I'm comfortable with your sexuality."

"As long as it's not Rachel Maddow, I promise not to switch teams on you."

"I'm not all that concerned that Rachel Maddow wants you, to be honest," Jensen says. "It's all one big circle of tragic, unrequited love, but I think the bottom line is that you're stuck with me."

"I'll deal," Jared says.

"I'm leaning toward Olivia Wilde or Zoe Saldana. Got any preferences?"

"I would die if I got to have pretend sex with Uhura. I'll just throw that out there."

Jensen laughs. "Yeah, there's a good way to make serious decisions about my films. 'Who does my boyfriend-slash-girlfriend have the biggest nerd boner for today?'"

"In that case, find out if Carrie Fisher is available."

That's the last straw. Jensen laughs so hard some spray-tanned teenager with a dog tucked into her purse stops to stare at him, and he remembers he's out in public and trying not to get mobbed. "Hey, why don't you get back to your girl talk? I'll call you later."

"Promise?"

"Promise," Jensen says with a small smile. "You kids have fun."

"Thanks, grandpa. Love you."

Jensen returns the sentiment and hangs up, hearing a loud kiss smacking against the receiver. The call almost made things worse, his ache for Jared even more consuming than before.

He stops on the sidewalk to tuck his phone away, and looks up by chance at the store window in front of him. His breath all steals out of him, and he knows he's found the way to tell Jared all the things he can't say.

Jared is already waiting for him at the airport. He's dressed in a suit with black shades on, like they used to wear when the Winchesters were impersonating FBI, and he's holding an ACKLES sign up to his chest.

Jensen rolls his eyes and refrains at the last minute from giving Jared a big ol' kiss on his mouth right there in the middle of arrivals. The drive home isn't long, thank god. Jensen is not making for great conversation—he's too excited and much too nervous about what he has planned. He's hardly able to give Jared the barest details about his time in L.A.

"Wanna grab some dinner?" Jared asks once they're nearing the house. "I ate, but you know I always have more room if you're hungry."

"Nah, I ate at the airport," Jensen says. In all honesty, his lunch was pretty big, but he would normally be starving by now. He's just too anxious to eat.

Jared gives him a suspicious glance but doesn't press it, and they drive the rest of the way home mostly quiet. Jensen takes his suitcase in before Jared gets a chance to grab it and heads straight for the bedroom once the door has been unlocked.

Sadie seems disappointed by that, and Jared laughs. "I don't know if I should be flattered or feel used," he says. "But that's definitely the fastest I've ever gotten anyone in my bed without—"

Jensen stops at the door and turns to push at Jared's chest, preventing him from entering. "I need five minutes alone with your room."

Jared blinks, clearly confused, but he shrugs. "Okay. Just don't have all the fun without me."

It takes a little bit of maneuvering on Jensen's part to get out of the room with Jared standing right outside the door without letting him see what's going on, but he manages it.

"You have to cover your own eyes," Jensen says. "That's what you get for being taller than me, asshole. No romance."

Jared laughs. "What's this all about, man?"

"You wanna find out or you wanna stand here talking?"

With a muted eye roll, Jared shuts his eyes and puts his giant hands over them.

"No peeking," Jensen tells him quietly, stepping behind Jared and putting his hands on Jared's hips to steer him. "I'll lead you."

Jared nods and starts walking when Jensen urges him forward, and Jensen stops him a few inches from his bed. He pushes his whole body up against Jared's back and has to rise to his tiptoes to whisper in Jared's ear, "Okay, baby. You can look."

Jensen is expecting a gasp, some exclamations of joy, but all he gets when Jared lowers his hands is silence. Shocked, painfully unreadable silence. He steps around to see Jared's face, but although he definitely seems to be having a reaction, Jensen's not sure if it's a good one.

"Do you like it?" he finally asks, sure the stress will kill him if he waits much longer.

Jared stoops low enough for his fingers to brush the dark blue gown spread out on the bed. The touch is brief and gentle, but whether it's tenderness or disgust keeping Jared away, Jensen's not sure.

"Jensen, it's—" His fingers graze over the fabric and he turns to look Jensen in the eye. "It's beautiful. Jesus, Jensen, it's." He looks back down, then up. "Is it really for me?"

Jensen nods, then lets out a breathy laugh. "You have no idea how much it cost to have that thing altered," he says, wrapping his arms around Jared's waist. "But the instant I saw it, I knew it was made for you." He kisses Jared's neck. "Gonna look so beautiful on you."

"Jensen, this is crazy." He picks the dress up and lets the smooth fabric drape down onto the mattress. "I can't accept this."

"It's already been tailored. Can't say no now." Jensen grins. "You should have seen the look the designer gave me when I went in to talk to him. I think he would have thrown me out had I been anyone else."

Jared laughs. "It's good to be the king, I guess."

"It has its perks. So you really like it?"

"It's amazing. I don't think I've ever owned anything so perfect." Jared bites his lower lip, finally starting to look a little giddy. "You sure it'll fit me?"

"You can try it on, but I'm pretty sure."

"How did you even get my measurements?" Jared asks, pausing to raise an eyebrow. "You stalker."

"Carlos has a big mouth," Jensen replies. "You're the one who told me."

"Oh my god, he gave my boyfriend my measurements? Biggest faux pas. I am firing him so hard the next time Anita needs a new dress."

Jensen shrugs. "Be easy on the guy. It was for a good cause and I'm a horrible bully."

Jared smiles, those gorgeous dimples jumping out, but he shakes his head. "Where am I even going to wear a dress like this?" he asks. "It's too nice to wear on stage."

Jensen swallows a lump in his throat. Here comes the hard part. "It's for the Oscars."

Jared freezes. He stands stock still for some long, tense seconds, and Jensen watches the dress as it slides out of his grasp.

"You know they don't invite lowly mortals like me to that party," he finally says, turning to give Jensen a glance. His voice is playful, but Jensen can hear the edge of uncomfortable suspicion. He knows what Jensen's saying, but he's not taking the bait.

Jensen is perfectly willing to spell it out. "I want you to come with me," he says. "As my date."

Jared's laugh is nearly a snort. "Damn, Jensen. Did you toke up and decide not to share with me or something?"

"Don't make a joke out of it," Jensen says, stepping around and sitting on the edge of the mattress so he can see Jared better. "Please don't do that."

"If you're not joking, and you're not high, then you're fucking crazy," Jared replies, and not in the nicest tone, either. "So which one is it?"

"Why does it have to be crazy?" Jensen asks.

"You haven't thought this through. You're wearing rose-colored glasses or something. It'll wear off, and when it does, you'll be glad I said no."

"I have thought it through," Jensen insists, reaching out and trying to take Jared's hands, but he pulls them away. "The whole time I was in L.A., you were all I could think about. And how much I wanted to tell—"

"This is _not_ something you can rush. If we do what you're suggesting, that is it. It doesn't matter if we break up a week later and you never date anything but girls again. You will be branded for life."

"I know that. Jesus, Jared, I'm not stupid. I know how the business works." He takes a deep breath, bringing his tone back down to sincere instead of angry and defensive. That's not going to get across to Jared. Jared has to be reasoned with, even when he's already too worked up to be reasonable himself. "I'm trying to tell you I'm willing to take that risk. I'm willing to do it with you."

"It's been less than a month. You don't just do things like this after—"

"How long after you fell in love with me did it take you to be sure?"

Jared stops and stares at Jensen like he just got punched in the gut. "That's different!"

"Why?" Jensen asks. "Just tell me why. And if you say it's because I'm straight, I'm going to laugh at you."

"It's not just about the media, Jensen. It's your friends and family, too. This is going to change how everybody sees and treats you. Are you ready for that? Hmm? Is Jay the kind of girl you want to take home to Donna and Alan?"

"My parents love you," Jensen says. Jared raises an eyebrow pointedly, and Jensen shrugs. "Okay, so it'll take them some getting used to. They _will_ get used to it."

"This isn't exactly a way to ease them into it."

"So come home with me for Christmas," Jensen says. "And then come with me in February."

Jared makes an irritated sound and paces away from the bed. "You are so infuriatingly calm about things sometimes."

"And I so rarely ever regret it. Look, Jared, I'm not trying to pressure you into anything. But I can't live keeping this big of a secret from everyone, I just can't do it. I want everyone to know I got you. Wear the dress, don't wear the dress. Wear a suit, wear a t shirt and jeans. Come as Jay or Jared or fucking Anita for all I care—however you're comfortable. However you want to dress that day. I don't give a shit what the media says about us or who thinks I'm gay. But I can't live constantly in fear someone is gonna figure us out. I'm going to need to take this step if we're gonna be together, and you have to take it with me."

"I hid it long enough," Jared says. "Why can't you?"

Jensen's laugh is crueler than he'd like. "And that worked out so great for you, huh? You're really gonna try to tell me— _me_ —that it's made you happy? I'm not doing to anyone what you did to me. No way."

"It's better than the alternative."

"It's _easier_ than the alternative, you mean." Jensen shakes his head raising his arms in frustration. "I don't even understand what the problem is for you, man. It's not like coming out can do worse for your career than what you already chose to do to it. And the stigma's not so bad these days."

"It's still bad enough. The world is not perfect."

"Granted. But it's not irredeemable. I mean, just think, five years ago it was hard to believe someone like Tammy Baldwin could get into the Senate, now she's on the fast track to run for president when Biden's done. That's incredible, Jared. If she's doing alright, what are you so worried about?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake. I have a _son_ , Jensen," Jared yells.

Jensen flinches, hurt as he realizes how far out of his way Jared's been going not to bring it up. Not to rub it in. As if Jensen could ever begrudge Jared his kid.

Jared looks at Jensen like he's sorry and moves to sit down next to him. His voice is soft but firm when he finally continues. "I'd come out in a heartbeat if it were just me." He turns, a finger moving lightly over Jensen's temple, like he's trying to tuck a hair away. "I've thought about it, okay? I've dreamt of it for years. And getting to do it with you? So big and proud, wearing something like that," Jared inclines his head toward the dress, "it's all my little girl dreams about being a princess and getting my prince come true. But I can't do that to my boy."

"He doesn't know?" Jensen asks, even though that's a fucking stupid question.

Jared laughs. "He's six years old. I don't even think he'd know what it meant if I tried explaining."

"Good," Jensen says. "Then it's the perfect time to tell him. He can grow up used to it. Let him grow up knowing every wonderful thing about his dad. Jared, don't make him spend his life not knowing you. It'll hurt more once he does find out. Take it from me."

Jared drops his hands and turns away from Jensen. "I'm going to tell him. Someday."

"When? When you were gonna tell me? You can't spend the rest of your life hiding from everything that's hard." Jensen puts his hand on Jared's thigh and gives it a squeeze. "I know I haven't seen him in a while, but I know his parents. I think it's safe to say he won't love you any less for being different."

"It's not him," Jared says, lacing his fingers and staring at them as if they're the most interesting thing in the world. "I know he'll be a good sport. He's a great kid." Jared looks up at Jensen warmly. "I want you to meet him again. I want you to be a part of his life. He could use a dad."

"He has a dad," Jensen grumbles.

Jared looks up and grins. "Well, one like you, then. Someone to teach him how to be the kind of man I want him to be."

Jensen smiles. "I'd like to be that for him."

"It's everything else he'll have to deal with. If I come out—if I do what you're asking me to do—it's going to be huge. Everyone will know his dad's not just a fag but a full-blown freak show."

Jensen frowns at the venom in Jared's tone. "Hey. Who told you you were any of those things?"

"A lot of men while you were happily married," Jared replies, trying to soften the blow with a sadly inauthentic smile. "Anyway, it doesn't matter if I am those things or not. That's what he's gonna hear when he goes to school. That's what they're gonna say. I can't stand the thought that he'll be picked on because of me, or that I'll—I don't want to be something he's ashamed of, Jensen. With him and Gen down in L.A., I already hardly get to see him as is. I don't want him resenting me when I do."

Jensen bites his lip. Jared has a point, Jensen won't pretend otherwise. And he's got no place telling Jared what to do, what to decide is best for his own kid. God knows Jensen's got no experience with the matter.

"If you do this," Jensen says, picking his words carefully. "You'll be starting a change. It might be tough, but you'll make it easier for the next kid with a dad like you to hold his head high."

"I know that. And I know someone has to go first. But how do you tell a kid all his friends are mean to him because daddy wants to make a statement? Why does it have to be Tommy that suffers for it?"

"Because you're in the right place at the right time," Jensen says. "And as rough as it might be along the way, I think he'll grow up understanding why it's important. I think he'll be proud to have a dad who was willing to take a risk."

"You didn’t used to be so obnoxiously optimistic about everything," Jared says, bumping his shoulder with Jensen's.

Jensen smirks. "What can I say? I'm in love."

Jared sighs, shaking his head. "It's a big decision, Jensen."

"I know that, baby," he says, brushing Jared's hair off his shoulder and leaning down to kiss it. "And you can take some time to make it. But if there's anyone who can do this, it's you." Jensen puts a hand firmly on Jared's shoulder and pushes him back a little, up onto the bed. "I want to thank you if I win," he says. "I want to let everyone there, everyone watching at home, every damn person on this whole damn planet, know who I won it for."

Jared laughs under him, his hands coming up to skim over Jensen's sides. "You didn't win it for me, stupid. I was decidedly absent from your life when you were making that one."

Jensen shakes his head as he moves up, positioning himself over Jared. "That's exactly my point. I was in a bad place when I made that movie, Jared. Danneel had just left. I was lonely. And I guess it helped, I guess it made the emotions stronger. It sure as hell gave me more time to obsess over the film. But I'd trade it in a second to have had you then and I wouldn't give you up for a million _Chiaroscuro_ s or Oscars or anything. That's what I'm gonna win it for. That's what I'll be thankful for standing up there. Because yours will be the name I'll get to say and I would love for you to be sitting at my table supporting me when I say it."

"Jensen," Jared says, drawing the name out like it's an ache.

Jensen smiles and ducks his head, catching Jared's mouth in a starved kiss. Jared pushes him back after a few long minutes, a quietly stunned expression on his face.

"What?" Jensen says, putting a hand on each side of Jared's face. "What's wrong?"

Jared manages to shakes his head, even in Jensen's grasp. "Wrong? No, God no." He looks up, right into Jensen's eyes. "That's the first time you've ever kissed me."

Jensen laughs hotly, about to ask what the hell Jared is talking about. They've kissed lots of times, and done a whole lot more besides that. But then he realizes, he really hasn't kissed _Jared_ , not until now. He's kissed Jay, even Anita, but this is the first time he's kissed a man. That doesn't seem right, and Jensen's pretty committed to fixing it. He and Jared are gonna have plenty of firsts before Jensen lets him fall asleep tonight.

He kisses Jared again, just to let him know how much he likes it.

Jared smiles, turning his face away, and Jensen tries to edge in, but Jared stops him with two fingers on his lips. "Yes," he says. "I'll do it. I'll come with you." He stops, swallows hard, then gives Jensen a smile so perfect he doesn't think he can handle it. "I'd…I'd love to come with you."

Jensen grins. "Better move your dress before we fuck then, huh?" he says, dropping his voice a few octaves as he puts his mouth on Jared's ear. "Because I intend to make a mess out of this bed and everything on it."

"Even me?" Jared asks, batting his eyelashes coyly.

Jensen's smile is so genuine and so wide, he thinks he might get stuck like that. "Especially you."

**The End.**


End file.
